


Abductions, Past and Present

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Blood and Injury, Captivity, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Human Experimentation, Mental Breakdown, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Torture, Trauma, Unethical Experimentation, alien sides, serious injury, sympathetic everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Remus and Roman have been captive for years, used as lab rats for experiments of all kinds. Until one day, the sirens go off and they're taken away, separated, abducted yet again. But these aliens seem kind, seem nice, and if Remus weren't terrified out of his mind maybe he would start to trust them.
Comments: 227
Kudos: 430
Collections: Humans Are Space Orcs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TSS space/alien au, cause why not? This one is a looooot heavier than some of my other stuff, so pay attention to the tags, people, and stay safe!

He doesn’t want to be here. 

He doesn’t know where “here” is, exactly, but that hardly matters, anymore. 

What he wants hasn’t mattered in a long, long time. 

Still, he could take it, he did take it, he didn’t really have a choice, of course, but he’d learned long ago that fighting only made everything worse. 

He would have kept fighting them, regardless, but one time they got it into their heads that a good punishment would be separating them. He’d been alone for three days, terrified out of his mind, pacing, waiting, anxiety clawing at his chest, barely able to breathe, much less function. 

And when they did bring him back, he was a shaking, sweating, bruised and bloodied mess. They were both used to the injuries from the experiments, or the testing, but this was something else, this was torture, and it had been his fault, it had been to teach him a lesson, and he had never been so scared that his brother was going to be actually taken from him then that time, it had taken a week of careful tending and his sloppy, half knowledge of first aid before his brother had opened his eyes, and the first thing the half dead idiot did was smile up at him, and he’d lost it. 

He hadn’t fought back, since then. He’d been docile as a lamb, he didn’t so much as scream anymore, didn’t let a single sob escape his lips when he was strapped to the table, for fear that they would separate them again, and it was selfish of him, but it was only half because he was worried for Roman. He was more worried for himself, what he would become if he didn’t have his brother to keep him sane. 

He knew they were testing him, after that. He knew, because it got worse for him, but easier for Roman, and that’s what mattered, he was fine with that. If they were foccused on him, all the better. 

They wanted to see how far they could push him, before he snapped. How far would he go, before he gave in, made a noise, fought back, disrespected them, gave them any excuse to punish him? The answer was simple. Never. Never, if it kept Roman safe. 

Oh, it hurt like hell. Sometimes he was aware, sometimes he wasn’t. Sometimes they injected things into him, things made his skin burn until he wanted to peel it off himself, sometimes things that choked his breathing, felt like ice shards stabbing into his lungs, sometimes things that made everything go hazy and warped and reality break around him, until he was feverish and unsure where he even was anymore. Sometimes they poked, prodded, slashed, burned, stabbed, branded, broke bones, dislocated limbs, he wasn’t entirely sure what else. Just anything and everything to test his resilience, his resistance to pain, his stubbornness. 

He knew it was something to do with measuring human’s durability, their resistance to different chemical mixtures and resilience in healing, knew that some days after he was exhausted from shaking, from biting his tongue so hard it bled instead of letting a single whimper slip past his lips they took blood, plasma, they measured the methodical cuts of varying deepness they had etched into different parts of his body, typing away on their tablets any progress or delays. 

The worst was when they purposefully let wounds get infected, let them fester and rot, veins turning purple, skin turning black, until he could feel the infection creeping through his blood, fever and chills sweeping through him so hard Roman had to hold him still or he’d hurt himself seizuring. Those were the times he was almost sure he was going to die, and he’d smile at Roman, because if he really was going out, the last goddamn thing his brother was going to see of him was his smile. 

But that doesn’t matter anymore. 

Despite everything, despite all he’d done, despite his best efforts, it doesn’t matter. Existence is futile at this point, everything is. 

The beings that had brought him here had been gentle. Nice, almost, if he believed anyone could be nice anymore. They’d brought him to this room, with gentle reasuruances that everything would be fine, and then left. 

It is bare, but almost anything is an improvement over his previous lodgings. That had been a cold, dark, cell. Solid metal walls and floors, they hadn’t even bothered to keep them on a light/dark cycle, a dirty pile of hay as a bed, a slot for their meager rations, nearly all of which he gave to Roman instead, no matter how much he protested. Here there’s an actual bed, carpeted floors, soft, not too bright radiant lighting that must be somewhat UV, because he hasn’t felt warmth like this in years. 

He hadn’t even noticed the light dimming, but he realizes suddenly it’s dark. Not completely, not pitch black like the cell, he can still see the outline of the room, of everything, clearly, though it doesn’t stop his breath from hitching. 

He’s in the corner, curled tight into a ball, hands tangled in his hair, so no one can sneak up on him from any direction. He hasn’t moved from this spot since he was put in here, two, maybe three, days ago? He doesn’t quite know. He knows he hasn’t eaten anything, though they bring him three meals a day. They’ve progessivly been getting more elaborate, more enticing, he knows they’re trying to get him to eat, to drink, something, anything, and he knows he should, but what’s the point? The smell just makes him sick, the thought of eating any of it nearly makes him choke.

He knows they’ve been talking to him, too, though he’s so hazy and half out of his mind he doesn’t really remember what they’ve been saying. He knows there’s at least three of them. One, soft spoken and kind, that gives off an aura of safety, of home, almost human, except for the large, fluffy blue speckled wings on his back. The third is some kind of Naga, face scaled and eyes slitted, hands ending in sharp claws, lingering on the s’s when he pronounces them. The final member is a human, which should set him at ease, but only scares him more, for some reason, because if they can brainwash a human, what chance does he stand? He’s never been smart, only good for the physical tests, he always failed the mental challenges set before him, every puzzle and game and riddle, until they even gave up on punishing him for it. 

Every time someone enters, he pulls back, huddling tighter into his corner, no matter how far away they stay, he hisses and spits and growls, letting them think he’s gone mad, gone feral, and maybe he has, maybe he really, truly has, but he doesn’t care because every time he sees one of them, hears the door, his stomach twists with the most agonizing, crushing hope, because part of him believes one of these times it will be Roman, but it will never, never be Roman.  
…  
He’s in the cell. He’s pacing, endlessly pacing, because for the first time in weeks, they’ve taken Roman from him, and despite his better judgement, he fought back, because he can’t handle Roman getting hurt, he won’t let them take him, because he has a terrible sense that if they take him again, he won’t ever see him once more. 

But he failed, he failed miserably, and Roman is gone. 

He lurches towards the door at the sound of noise, the sound of alarms and shouts, He’s never heard that before, which scares him, new is never good, new means a new test, one he doesn’t know the rules of, one he can’t win. 

The door flies open, and he barely catches Roman as he’s flung into the room, the door slamming shut, and it takes his eyes a moment to readjust. When he does, he gasps. 

Roman is soaked in blood. So much blood, it’s never been this bad before, something must have gone wrong, there’s a deep, jagged cut across his abdomen, that’s where the blood is coming from, and desperately, he presses down on it, wincing at Roman’s hoarse scream of pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, trying to ignore the red that seeps out between his fingers, he’s losing too much, too much, they must have hit an artery, or… or something, if he wasn’t so stupid he would know what to do, so his brother would stop dying in his arms. 

“R… rem…” His eyes lock on Roman’s, hazy with pain and glazed with confusion, but open and aware, and Roman cradles him close, helping support him, as he coughs, blood dribbling out of his mouth, bloodying his gums, staining his teeth. 

“Shh, shh, it’ll be ok, RoRo, I’m gonna-“ His voice splinters, and he heaves in a breath, “gonna patch you right up, just like always, yeah? Sound good?” He pleads more than asks, running his hands through Roman’s hair, keeping one hand pressed tight to his wound, forcing a smile to his face through the desperate tears. 

“d…don’t think y-y-you can.” Roman stutters, a frightening gurgling coming from his lungs as he heaves again, coughing up blood, and he realizes he’s screaming, as Roman’s eyes close, as his head lolls, his body goes limp against his, his breathing stopping, and he screams louder, harder, until it shatters his own eardrums, until he isn’t even sure he’s still screaming, until nothing else in the world has ever existed or mattered except this, this moment of unbearable loss. 

Then the door opens, and someone is speaking, and someone is pulling him away, disentangling Roman from his arms, and he’s still screaming, but his voice has long since given out, and he fights, he thrashes, he growls and claws and bites and snaps, at everyone, anyone, within reach, because they’re taking him, they can’t take him, they can’t have him, he won’t let them, he WON’T! 

Then cool, soft calm radiates through him, stilling him instantly as he goes complacent. His memories are fuzzy after that, he remembers flashes of a ship, flashes of conversation, of apologies from the winged one, then the room.  
…  
He doesn’t look up at the door opening. He hasn’t even checked if it’s locked, honestly. Hasn’t looked for any way of escape, it doesn’t mean anything, now. 

“hey kiddo.” He flinches, though the voice is soft and gentle, nothing but warm and kind, so hard his head cracks against the wall. He realizes his world is spinning, tears are dripping down his face, he’s hyperventilating. That must be why they sent Feathers, as he’s nick named him in his mind, because he was panicking again. “I need you to breathe, ok? In and out.” He does, he doesn’t know why he does, but he does, copying Feathers’ pattern until his heaving comes to a slow stop. He doesn’t otherwise acknowledge the being, doesn’t look up or speak or do anything other than curl tighter as he feels the being move closer. 

“easy, bud. You know, you’d feel better if you ate something. Or at least drank something. You can’t go this long without water.” 

And you can? He wants to bite out, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t react. He hears the person sigh. 

“I don’t want to, but I know you’re hurting yourself. I won’t let you give up like this kiddo, I don’t want to use my abilities, but you’re not giving me much of a choice.” He laughs, bitter, dark, angry, teeth bared and eyes flaming with raging hurt. He’s a bit satisfied to see Feathers stumble back, eyes wide. 

“Go the fuck ahead. It won’t change anything. Go ahead and prolong my suffering. Go ahead and do whatever the hell you want to me. Go ahead and use me and break me and pretend to give a shit, I couldn’t care less what you do at this point, I may as well be already dead. I may as well kill myself.” He barely sees Feathers anymore, eyes wild, all the thoughts that have been silent the past few days because of his grief overwhelming him all at once. “I could bash my head against the wall until it split open and my brains fell out of my skull. I could tie the bedsheets together into a noose, I could waterboard myself with them, too, I could claw open my wrists with my nails, oh, or I could claw my chest open and rip out my own heart, crush it my fist. Do I even have one anymore? I don’t think I do. If I do, it’s not beating, that’s for sure, it’s dead and cold and hard as a stone, it doesn’t mean anything anymore, nothing means anything anymore.” He pauses, cocking his head. “Could you kill me? Could you convince my brain to turn off? Convince my blood to stop pumping? Could you make my instincts shut off so I could smother myself with a pillow, or drown myself in a puddle, or slit my own throat with my nails?” 

“kiddo…” He laughs again, heedless of the tears streaming down his face. 

“It’s nothing worse than they’ve already done to me, nothing worse than I let them do to me, there’s nothing worse that could possibly happen, I lose him, I lost him, and it’s my fault, and he’s gone, he’s gone, and it’s my fault, and I couldn’t stop the bleeding and I just, I can’t, I need…” He’s hyperventilating again, and he lets out a choked scream of rage, lunging to his feet. For a moment he sees fear in Feathers’ eyes, but he doesn’t care, he smashes his fist against the wall, screaming, and it feels good, so he does it again, and again, and again, until he knows bones have broken, but he doesn’t care, because the pain is a fraction of what he feels inside, a fraction of what he deserves, and then that peace is slipping back over him and he falls to his knees, vision swimming before going black. “roman… ro… please…” he whimpers, letting the dark sweep him away, praying he never wakes up.  
…  
“Patton!” Virgil races into the room, having fled the monitor room as soon as the human lunged to his feet, skidding to a stop at the sight that greets him. 

He is sitting on the floor, the unconscious human cradled in his arms, wings wrapped tight in what Virgil knows to be a soft cocoon of warmth. 

“we made a mistake, Virg.” 

“That’s what you’re worried about!? I thought he was going to kill you, or kill himself, or both!” Patton shakes his head as the human whimpers in his arms. 

“We need to put them together. They need each other.”

“He’s right. I’m not usually one for the whole touchy feely thing, but even I can feel the despair radiating off him.” Janus adds, making Virgil jump and scowl at Janus's smirk.

“Maybe we should wait for Logan.” Virgil responds doubtfully, but Patton shakes his head vehemently. 

“no. Now, we can’t wait.” 

…

He wakes up slowly, and not at all, at first. It’s like swimming through molasses, probably because he can’t even remember the last time he slept, and his body is trying to take advantage. Then again, what does he have to wake up for? 

But there’s something. A soft voice, an arm around him, a familiar, comforting scent, and his eyes snap open, fear and hope and aching, overwhelming need forcing him awake, forcing him to see, cause if it isn’t true, he will die.

Amber eyes, pale skin, strong cheek bones, pale and face a bit flushed, but awake, and holding him, and he can’t help but let out a pent up, anguished sob, burying against him with all his might, barely heedful of the wound he knows is there, but there’s no blood, somehow, and Roman is here and alive and, this can’t be overstated, Roman is alive. 

“please… please don’t… I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fought, I should have fought harder, I thought you died because of me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I…” He can’t speak anymore, through the tremors wracking his body, the relief flooding through him heady and dizzying and his mind is shorting out and he’s crying ugly, sobbing, snotty, tears, but he can’t stop, doesn’t want to stop. “I let them take you away, I thought they took you away, they took you.” 

“Remus, Remus, Remus, I know, I know, it’s not your fault, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here, I’m here, and you’re here and we’re safe now.” He clings to his brother harder, almost sick from the level of heightened emotion he’s feeling, every breath like a dagger being ripped out of his chest, and he swears he can feel his heart start beating again, time start ticking once more. 

“don’t go. Don’t… don’t go, don’t leave, please, please, don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t go, I can’t… I can’t if you go. Please stay.” He begs, fists curling tighter around the fabric of Roman’s soft shirt, shifting so he’s eye to eye with his brother, unable to stop searching his face, every inch of his face, for any sign this is just another fever dream.” 

“I’m not, I’m not going anywhere. I promise, Rem, I absolutely promise.” Roman yawns hugely and he smirks, letting his hand card through Roman’s hair, slipping behind him so Roman is laying against his chest, nearly atop him, wrapping his arm around Roman’s middle, resting it over his heart, to feel the steady pulsing beat. He nestles his head in the crook of Roman’s shoulder, gently rocking his brother slightly, feeling him let out another long yawn. 

“Go to sleep, brobro. I’ll be ok. As long as you’re ok, I’ll be ok. And I’m not going anywhere, either. Never, never, never. I swear.” He whispers, feeling Roman smile, the action bringing more tears to his eye, because his smile lights up his entire world, it’s all he ever strives for, another smile, another laugh, another second warm and safe and happy with his baby brother in his arms. 

He freezes as the door to the room opens, unconsciously holding Roman tighter in his arms, uncomfortably reminded of his brother being ripped from him, of when the cell door would slide open and figures in masks would come for him, and he hisses, baring his teeth, staring daggers at the tall, too slim figure with crystalline skin.

“Greetings-" before the being can get another word out, he has lunged to his feet, slammed him against the wall, growl a low rumble in his chest, because memories are washing over him, and he suddenly hates this being with all of his might.

“You.” He hisses, hand against the being’s throat, pinning him to the wall. “You pulled him away from me.” 

“I did. I needed space to work in order to have a chance at saving him.” The being’s luminous silver eyes meet his evenly and emotionlessly, betraying not a hint of fear at the snarling human two seconds away from killing him. 

“You kept us apart.” 

“For healing purposes, yes, I-“ 

“YOU HAD ME BELIEVE HE DIED!” He screams, and finally, something like guilt or remorse flickers through those eyes, though it does nothing to dampen his rage. “He is the last fucking thing I have in this hell hole of a world, and you had me convinced he was dead and it was as good as my fault.” He growls, low and dark, and he thinks he does have enough rage in him, to kill this person, to end him, because how could he do something like that, how could he say that? 

“That… was a miscalculation on my part. At first we weren’t sure he was going to make it, so it wasn’t much of a lie, and I didn’t want to bring you two into contact with one another without first knowing the nature of your relationship. I did not want to risk the possibility that you were the one responsible for his state.” He lets out a harsh half laugh half sob, pressing harder against the being’s throat, enough that he can see him struggling to get in a full breath of air. 

“I was holding him in my arms. I was sobbing, I was screaming, I was mourning, I was breaking, I didn’t think I could get anymore broken, but somehow you managed to prove me wrong. That? That was crueler than anything that ever happened to us back there, I can tell you that much, and from the bottom of my soul, I will never, never forgive you for it.” He swears, about to step back, but suddenly the door slams open and the world shifts around him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has another panic attack, and the others discuss how to proceed with helping the two humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another heavy one, folks. It's gonna start getting better soon.

The lab. He’s back in the lab. How did he get here, wasn’t he somewhere else? 

He’s unchained, unshackled, which is also odd, they only do that for tests, not in the lab, not under the cold lights of the white sterile room. 

“Remus. Remus, please, this isn’t you.” Roman. He wants to turn, wants to reassure him, wants to ask him what’s wrong, to protect him, to break him out of here, but his body doesn’t move. 

“You don’t know who I am, Roman. You only like to think you do.” He has a blade in his hand, he’s speaking but his mind is screaming, he’s screaming, but his mouth just pulls up into a smirk, as he turns to the table. 

It’s upright, Roman shackled to the table, arms stretched out, legs slightly splayed. He’s quivering, shallow cuts already tracing red marks across his skin, as if someone had doodled on him with a red sharpie. Remus knows intrinsically it was him. 

He’s protesting every step, every move forwards, every step towards Roman, fighting, clawing for control, for anything, but he can't stop this, can only watch as his own body circles around the table, chuckling darkly. 

“Remus. You’re scaring me.” Roman’s voice is tremulous, and he grins widely, slashing the knife across Roman’s throat, not deep enough to kill him, but enough beads of blood come to the surface, and Roman whimpers, flinching back as he gently caresses his cheek. 

“There now, let’s make you into a work of art.” He croons, he’s screaming, he’s screaming, but the knife flashes anyway, red and silver and flesh parting and screams and gurgles and disgust and despair and madness slipping over him with every cut, every desperate plea and cry branding his soul, branding him a monster and he doesn’t understand why his body is moving, laughing, slashing, while his mind is breaking, screaming, agony. 

“Why would you-“ 

“panicked, okay?” 

“was calming down-“ 

“didn’t know that! Had Logan pinned by his throat!” 

“kiddo. Hey. Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Can you look at me?” His head feels heavy, he’s gasping for air like a drowning man, he thinks he might be drowning, because the noise won’t get out of his head, the red won’t leave his mind’s eye, and he is drowning in the crimson red of his brother’s life blood, over and over and over, and he can’t stop it, he can’t- 

“I knew it. I knew this wasn't real.” He whispers, voice breaking into a thousand shards of glass as he folds in on himself, god, he really was stupid, wasn’t he? 

“Kiddo? What are you talking about?” He nearly chokes on his laughter, it cuts his throat and crushes his lungs, and he only laughs harder at Feathers’ light, hesitant touch, a hand barely on his shoulder, from where he’s crumpled on the floor. He seems so kind, how did he get into this business? Or maybe that’s his job, play the part, act the savior, see how they break when they find out the truth. 

“I knew it wasn’t safe, knew this was all just part of it, part of the test, part of another trial, or another game, or another punishment, I knew this wasn’t real, I knew we’d never make it out, there’s no way out, there’s never a way out, there’s nothing, there’s nothing else, and that’s fine, it’s fine, do whatever you want, do anything, everything, I don’t care, I’ll follow along, I’ll obey every request, every command, I’ll do it, I swear I’ll do it, just don’t hurt him again, just leave him alone, just let him stay here and pretend this is real and he can be happy, and he can be safe, and I’ll do everything you say forever, I don’t care, I don’t care if I can’t see him ever again, I don’t care if you tell him I died or whatever excuse you need, just let him stay here in this fantasy, just let him stay, please, please, he can’t- I can’t- I-“ The world is spinning, like the solid ground he was just walking on has turned into an endless chasm, like the sky cleared of rain only for him to be hit by a lightning bolt on a sunny day, like the rug pulled out from under him, sending him hurtling off the edge of a cliff, and he can’t breathe, why can he never breathe? 

He can feel that calming, soothing power once again, but he doesn’t trust it now, they just want him complacent, and they haven’t agreed, they haven’t agreed to let Roman stay in this wonderful dream, and he will fight them every step if they don’t, he will never stop fighting if they don’t, so with effort he shrugs off the comforting lull calling to him, he jerks back, away from Feathers, away from his touch, he glares up at Logan, he thinks they called him, and the definitely not human that looks like a human, standing wide eyed behind him, his own eyes defiant and dark and full of power borne from pain. 

“I will fight every step of the way. I swear on whatever god you believe in, if you don’t promise me now he can stay in this little world of pretend you’ve cooked up to fuck with our heads, I will never stop fighting against you until I’ve snapped that thin little neck of yours.” Logan looks taken aback, looks confused, and he grins, sharp and feral, because he will do it, he will do it right now, even if he has to rip off Feathers’ pretty little wings, or claw out the not human’s eyes from his skull, he will kill them all, even if it kills himself in the process, to keep what he saw from happening, to keep Roman from ever going back to that hell, to keep him here in this illusion, sheltered from reality. 

“logan-“ 

“He will be safe. I swear it.” There is sincerity to Logan’s voice, a strange softness to his eyes, and he believes him. His breathe catches and tears stream down his face, and he didn’t know his heart could break in this particular way, but here he is, anyways. 

“you’d better.” Then what little air in the room is left compresses, and he can’t breathe, and he can’t hear past the ringing in his ears. 

…

Patton barely manages to catch the human as he passes out, stopping him from falling face first on the floor, relieved to see that his breathing has gone back to normal, his panic attack ended by unconsciousness, his brain shutting down to force him to breathe. Unhealthy, but necessary right now.

“Why did you say that?” He asks angrily. 

“It is true. His brother will be safe, and so will he.” 

“That’s not what I mean.” 

“And that was a flimsy excuse, Logan, and that’s coming from me.” Janus says smoothly, leaning in the doorway. 

“He was hurting himself, panicking, hyperventilating. We were never going to be able to get through to him in such a state, especially after seeing… whatever he saw, when Virgil touched him. There was no point in arguing and distressing him further. It is… not ideal, and I don’t like letting him think what he’s thinking any more than you do, Patton, but he would never have believed us, right now.” Some of the anger fades from Patton as he nods, letting out a long sigh. He’s not really mad at Logan, anyway, he’s just furious at the people who did this in the first place.

“you’re right, I know, I just… I hate…” 

“you hate him being so scared for no reason. I understand, Patton. I… you didn’t see, what it was like, there, but he has every reason to believe that his captors would fake a rescue like that, just to toy with him. This isn’t going to be easy. And captain overreaction over there didn’t help things.” Janus mutters the last sentence, coming to rest a hand on Patton’s shoulder, lightly rubbing his thumb in circles on the top of his wing. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I freaked out when I saw a feral human pinning my friend to the wall by his neck!” Virgil replies, a bit of an echo slipping into his voice for the last few words, his normally brown eyes starting to turn black around the whites. 

“Virgil. Breathe. I understand why you did what you did, even if it has possibly irreparably damaged our progress with him. you were afraid, and trying to protect me, and I… appreciate your concern.” Virgil relaxes just slightly at Logan’s words, muttering whatever and looking away, crossing his arms. 

“we can’t separate them again. That will just make everything worse, if he wakes up and he’s not here anymore, he’ll think… he’ll think he was right.” Patton says smally, and Logan sighs, starting to pace. 

“you’re right, on that account. However, leaving the two of them alone increases the chance that he will panic upon waking and assume that we have gone back on our ‘deal’, likely leading to some foolhardy escape attempt. On the other hand, if we have anyone in here with him, monitoring them directly, it is equally possible that individual will be attacked and injured in a similar attempt. 

“I’ll stay.” Everyone turns their heads at Janus’s quiet words. “What? I know what it’s like. From both sides of the mirror. If anyone can get through to him it’s me. And Roman already recognizes me, is starting to trust me.” Slowly, Logan nods, clearly thinking. 

“Perhaps you and Patton, together, so neither of you is alone, just in case. Remus seems to trust you, or at least not be afraid of you, as he is me and Virgil.” Patton nods quickly, sharing a small smile with Janus. “Excellent. We’ll keep an eye on the monitors, but I expect you’ll call if there’s any trouble. For now, I am going to go rest, and I would suggest you do the same, Virgil.” 

“I’ll try.” He answers grudgingly, moving to follow Logan out the door, stopped by Janus’s hand gently grabbing his wrist. 

“I need to know. It could help. What did he see, Virg?” He asks softly, knowing it is just as painful for Virgil to see what other people’s worst nightmares are as it is for them to experience it.

“It was him. Trapped in his own body. He was powerless, to stop himself, even though he was pleading, begging, it…” Virgil trails off, letting out a long breath. “It was the worst I’ve ever seen, Jan. And that should tell you all you need to know.” Virgil says, slipping out the door. 

“well. Fuck.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus wakes up and the rest of the crew deal with their own demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I'm still working on this, I promise, I'm just so low on motivation right now, it's hard to write anything other than one shots. Updates are gonna be sporadic, but they'll happen!

He jolts awake, shaking off the tail end of a nightmare, heart racing as he tries to place where he is, eyes locking on the bed, on the form of Roman sleeping peacefully, and his chest knots tighter. 

“hey kiddo.” He tenses a bit at the voice, eyes shooting up to Feathers', flinching back a bit. “it's ok, bud. Can you drink something for me?” his throat feels like it’s closing up, but he nods, letting Feathers hand him a cup. He doesn’t know what's in it, why he's still here, but he's not going back on his deal. So he steels himself and takes a swig of the liquid. 

His eyes widen. It's… water. Cool, fresh, sweet, water. He closes his eyes, taking another, slower drink. God, it’s amazing, he hadn't realized he'd forgotten what actual water tastes like, but it's somehow the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“easy, buddy. Too fast and you'll get sick.” He opens his eyes at hands gently taking back the mostly empty cup. He keeps his eyes down, hands in his lap. 

“Can we get some food in you, kiddo?” He nods again, letting Feathers guide him off the cot he'd been asleep on, barely wincing at the touch, biting back a hiss. The whole time his eyes never leave Roman.

They settle on the other side of the room, a small table and three chairs around it, which makes him stiffen even as he slides into the seat. 

“I brought breakfast. Is he awake?” His eyes fly to the door. It's Naga. “ah, he is.” Naga answers himself, a small smile flitting across his face, coming to sit at the table, sliding a bowl in front of him and Feathers, before he sits down with his own bowl. 

It smells like oatmeal of some kind, slightly cinnamon and sugary, and he can see fruit mixed in. Fruit. Just the thought nearly makes his mouth water, but he holds back, waiting for permission as the others begin to eat. He doesn’t know if this is another test, he won’t fail so easily if it is.

“Go on, kiddo. Eat up!” Feathers voice is light and cheery, and that's all the invitation he needs. He doesn’t care if it's poisoned, he decides with the first mouthful, nearly crying at the taste of sweet, warm, actual food. The next bite has a pop of sweet citrus and he can’t help letting out a small sound as he savors the flavor. It seems all too soon the bowl is empty, and despite being full he wishes for more.

Full. The ever present gnawing of hunger that he had nearly gotten used to is absent, he feels almost strange, without the ever present pangs of emptiness.

“Feeling better?” he nods again, eyes locked on Roman, missing the small frown exchanged between the two beings.

“kiddo… you can go see him.” Before the words are fully out of Patton's mouth, the human has vaulted out of his chair and is perched on the edge of the bed, hand entwined with Roman's, the other stroking his hair, murmuring softly. 

Janus clears his throat, and instantly, the human freezes, an expression of pure fear on his face as he pulls away from his brother, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, eyes downcast. Patton lets out a soft breath, looking to Janus for guidance. 

He doesn’t look up at the sound of wood being pulled across the floor, seeing Naga out of the corner of his eyes, settling in the chair from the table, about a foot away from him.

“My name is Janus. I’m a Naga. My home planet is Chaemera. I was taken when I was six. My venom is very potent, you see, and gold scales very rare. Individually, they’re not all that strong. But when crafted together on fabric, mimicking their natural placement on my skin they are nearly impenetrable. I’m told they also make fine jewelry. They’d pluck them. Then wait for them to grow back in, and do it again. It hurt, obviously, but I thought this was normal. Just how things go. Until the ship was boarded. And I was freed, taken in and helped to heal in all manners of the word, by Logan. He made a mistake, keeping you two apart, not telling you what was happening, but he means well. He isn’t the most socially adept. He never meant to cause you the fear and pain and stress you underwent at being kept apart. And I am swearing to you now on every scar on my body and soul, that you are safe and I will fight to the death anyone who tries to put you back into that fucking cell.” 

Remus stares at Naga, Janus, with suspicion and hesitancy, searching his face for any sign of a lie, for any sign of cold cunning or icy curiosity, finding none. He can’t decide if that puts him more or less at ease. He wants so badly to believe him, but he can't. He can’t because if he believes it and he’s wrong he will do something he'll regret, something that leaves Roman all alone.

“you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. You’ve been hurt really bad. We want to give you whatever it is you need to help start healing. It doesn’t matter if that means you ask us to leave right now and not come back, or if you want to talk. We won’t be angry, we won’t push you for anything, this is all at your pace. You control this. You can come and go as you please, we can drop you off somewhere, if that's what you want, you are free to wander the ship. Nothing here, none of us here, will hurt you.” He looks at Feathers, whose blue eyes are wide and filled with warmth and sadness and kindness, and he lets himself let out a ragged breath, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking, rocking back and forth, relieved, breathy sobs escaping his lips.

“oh, kiddo. Can… can I hug you?” Feathers asks hesitantly, and before he can second guess himself he nods. He barely flinches, his innate response to touch, but Feathers immediately pulls back at the small sign of discomfort. Which, really, convinces him more than anything else has, because none of his captors would ever have the empathy to playact a motion so innately kind.

“no… don't… please…” he heaves out, and instantly, those arms are back around him, wings wrapping him in warmth and sky blue softness, and he folds into the embrace. 

“There we go, buddy. It's ok, let it all out, it's ok.” The touch burns at his skin, it feels too hot and too much and too close, the pressure around his back, where the palms rub circles feel aflame and his brain can't process this because touch equals pain, but this is so gentle it's agonizing in an entirely new way that he never wants to end. 

“M-my name is Remus. His is R-Roman. I tr-tried to k-keep him safe, it w-w-was never en-ough I was n-ever enough…” 

“Shh, baby no, you did so good. You did. You kept him safe. You kept him alive, you did it, you did it, baby. You’re out, you got him out. You’re so brave.” Feathers lets go as he shifts away after several long minutes, tear streaked, but lighter, so much lighter, than he can ever remember being. 

“I can… I can stay, with him?” 

“Yes. Of course, yes.” Janus answers, the thought of separating them again causing a flash of pain across his face. 

“ok.” He whispers, voice hoarse, careful as he slips under the covers, curling tight around Roman, so he can feel every inhale and exhale, can feel the steady beat of Roman's heart. He smiles as he feels Roman let out a soft sound, melting into him.

He's exhausted. He hasn’t slept, really slept, in days. He feels the covers being gently tucked tighter around him, the warmth and heady sense of safety impossible to resist as his eyes slip shut.

“sleep well, Remus. We'll be in and out to check on you two, ok? If you need anything, just call. If you’re up for it, I'll give you a tour of the ship later, so you know your way around.” He nods, mumbles something affirmative. 

“thanks, Feathers.” He mumbles, slipping into a restful, soothing sleep.

Patton turns to Janus, eyes aglow, a bursting smile on his face.

“He called me feathers! That's adorable!” Janus sighs good naturedly, steering Patton out the door. 

“I heard… Feathers." He laughs at Patton's squeal, rolling his eyes but letting himself be drawn into a hug.

“Are you okay?” Patton asks, pulling away, not missing the flash of something across Janus's face before his mask of smooth confidence slips back on.

“Of course, darling. I’ve had years to move on, it’s certainly fine.” He dismisses, walking away down the corridor. 

“Jan. I know it must bring back unpleasant memories-"

“It's fine, Patton. I’m certainly not reminded of my own fragile state when looking at them, I definitely don’t hate playing the spy to get on board those ships, and I’m certainly looking forwards to doing it again!” He shouts, regretting it instantly as he slaps a hand over his mouth, stumbling back against the wall. 

“Janus-" Patton hates the cool mask of calm that slips back on, eyes going dim and distant, looking past him as he straightens. 

“As I said. Everything is just fine.” Then Janus has slipped inside his room and locks it tight, something he only does when he's getting stressed, usually after night terrors or a triggering encounter. 

“Jan? It’s alright to be not alright. I’m leaving you alone now, since you want space, but if you wanna talk ever, my door'll be open.” He hesitates a moment, as he hears a slide and thump, no doubt Janus sliding down the wall, sitting on the floor. “and I know you'll over think it, so I'll say it now, I’m not mad, or hurt, that you yelled. I love you.” He pulls away from the door, slowly, staring at it a moment longer before shaking his head, heading to the common area. Maybe Virgil would be there. He was likely wound up, too, and they could both use some company. 

He didn’t hear the very faint, very whispered “I love you too" that escaped Janus's lips at the sound of his retreating footsteps.  
…  
He's surprised to find Logan in the common room instead, the distant look in his eyes telling Patton that he was deep in his mind, a form of meditation, almost, that helps the Straevion organize his thoughts and information. But Logan should have been sleeping, not delving through his memory. 

Well, there was nothing to do but wait. Startling him out of it was more damaging and disorienting than nearly anything else, and it was a sign of great trust in his companions that Logan felt safe enough to do this in the living space, where anyone could stumble upon him, completely defenseless and vulnerable. It warmed his heart, how much faith Logan had in them all, and his feathers fluffed up before resettling. A small shuffling from the couch alerts him to Logan ‘waking’, and he smiles softly as Logan lets out a soft breath of air, silver eyes dilating and meeting his. 

“hey.” He says softly, noting Logan’s ramrod straight posture, his hands steepled in his lap. 

“Greetings, Patton. How may I be of assistance?” Whew, if Logan was falling back into his purely formal mode, he must really be upset. His race were generally stoic and formal, showing emotion a sign of weakness, but Logan had long since opened up, though it was still difficult sometimes for him to find the words to express what, exactly, he was feeling. But Patton is more than patient, and more than willing to help Logan express himself, lighting up at any small shred of emotion Logan shows, knowing how much trust it takes for him to share any sign of feeling, every twitch of the lips, any small snort of laughter, any tears or twinge of pain, each one was a tiny gift.

“Preen me?” He asks, instead of any of the other questions he wants to pepper Logan with, knowing he won’t answer any of them honestly if he’s this wound up. Logan hesitates, but nods minutely after a moment. Patton smiles, settling on the floor, wings stretched out behind him. After a moment, he hears Logan follow suit, and he shivers at the gentle touch on his feathers, closing his eyes and letting out a happy hum at the ever gentle, careful contact.

“If you’re out here, I’m assuming everything went adequately when he awoke?” Logan asks, voice still even, hands not hesitating in their careful straightening of his feathers, but Patton can sense the tension underneath. 

“They did. He’s sleeping now, real sleep, poor thing. He trusts that he’s free, too, though that may come and go. His name is Remus. The other is Roman.” He feels Logan nod, absorbing the information. He let the silence linger, letting Logan organize his thoughts. 

“I hurt them.” He says finally, his hands never stopping their steady motion, voice still dangerously flat. “I made a grave miscalculation in my ministration of care and failed to recognize the obvious signs of stress and grief acting upon Remus. I failed to see his signs of aggression as anything other than just that, when it is quite obvious that he was, in fact, in pain. At the very least I should have updated him on Roman’s condition and seen how he reacted.” 

“You could have. But we both know that being kept like that for as long as he was can easily lead to madness. It was perfectly reasonable to be warry, given his behavior. He hadn’t even spoken, we didn’t even know if he was cognizant. I wouldn’t have thought he was, until his outburst at me.” 

“Do you know what it was he said, before Virgil burst in?” His voice is strained now, on the edge of cracking, and Patton softens, tilting his head back to look at Logan’s face. 

“I don’t, Lo. I’d hoped you’d tell me, once you were ready.” He sees that small twitch of Logan’s lips, and he smiles, drawing his wings in and turning so he’s kneeling face to face with Logan. 

“he said that keeping them apart, letting him think that roman was dead, was the cruelest thing that’s ever been done to him. and the worst part is… I think he’s right.” Instantly, he’s wrapping his arms around Logan, pulling him closer with his wings, as he feels his stoic friend shaking. 

“you can cry, Lo. You know I won’t tell anyone, if you do. You know it’s ok.” He murmurs. 

“I don’t deserve to let myself feel, after what I did.” 

“No, Logan, no. That’s not how this works. You are entitled to your feelings. The fact that you feel guilty and miserable now proves that you understand you did wrong, that you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and I know you will do everything you can to earn their trust. To prove to Remus you deserve his. I know you have mine, Logan. Always, always, you have mine, plumana.” He replies, using a term of endearment native to his people. Logan relaxes against him, finally, his tears quiet and slow against Patton’s chest.

“Have you been up, this whole time? It’s been nearly two days since Remus passed out.” 

“Couldn’t sleep. I… tried but without physical touch I found myself unable to relax enough for my mind to settle.” 

“Awww, Lo, that’s so sweet!” He can feel Logan blushing, his entire skin faintly glowing with it. “now, let’s get you to bed, Plumana mine.” He whispers, brushing back Logan’s dark hair, softly kissing his forehead. 

“You don’t mind staying? Just until I fall asleep.” Logan asks as Patton gets to his feet, helping pull Logan to his. 

“I’ll stay as long as you want, Lo.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events through Roman's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another really rough one, so pay attention to the tags, peeps.

He’s scared. He knows it’s stupid, Remus goes through this every single day, he should be brave, like his brother, but he’s terrified, because he’s gotten complacent, gotten used to not being taken. 

And he knows from Remus’s face, bruised and bloody, and how hard his brother fought, that he has the same sinking feeling in his gut, that something is going to happen, something bad is coming, and he wishes he had more than a brief glimpse of eye contact to say his goodbyes before they dragged him away. 

It’s the examination table. The smell of sterile cleaners fills the space, making his nose burn from the potency of it, as his ankles and wrists are shackled. He can feel his breath starting to speed, his heart starting to race as panic sets in, as he pulls at his restraints, though he knows it won’t do any good. 

“-don’t need them much longer anyway, should get new specimens soon, to repeat the tests, make sure they’re an accurate representation of their species’ capabilities.” He shivers, going completely still at that voice, as the door opens, The Scientist entering. He’s never seen his face, he’s always wearing a mask, a full body suit, that is always stained red by the end of these sessions. 

“Please. Please don’t.” He knows begging won’t get him anywhere, but he can’t help it. 

“Sedate him. I don’t need him whining through this procedure.” He hears the doctor snap, and he gasps as he feels cold gloved hands on his arm, a needle shoved into his skin. “Experiment 1.552: Organ removal. As the subjects are coming to the end of their usefulness, we will be measuring the effect of the removal of internal organs. We’ll start with the organs it seems humans don’t need, today the appendix. We’re using subject 2, given his much healthier physical state, for the most accurate results. We’ll give that a week, then move on to the liver…” the doctor’s voice goes hazy, the world around him spinning, colors flowing and shifting, like a kaleidoscope. He feels a sharp pain in his side, but it dims quickly, along with his awareness as he fades in and out.   
…  
Sirens. There are sirens. He can feel an aching, blazing pain in his side, as he half stumbles, is half dragged, down the hallway. Lights are blaring red, flashing and spinning, the sound is so loud, he can hear shouts, screams, orders being shouted but his mind can’t make sense of it, then he’s shoved through a door, and nearly falls to his knees, a strange pressure in his chest, but then Remus is there, lowering him to the ground, alarm bright in his eyes. His own drift shut for a moment, but flare open at the pressure atop the burning spot, a hoarse scream escaping his lips. 

“R… rem…” he chokes out, vision blurred and hazy, but he knows that gentle touch, knows it’s Remus, and if he’s with Remus, he’s safe. The pressure in his chest increases and he coughs, spitting out blood, distantly, he knows that’s not a good sign.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be ok, RoRo, I’m gonna-“ Remus’s voice shakes, and he feels his brother take in a deep breath, “gonna patch you right up, just like always, yeah? Sound good?” He feels Remus gently stroking his hair, his hand pressing down on his abdomen, and Remus smiles at him, that smile lighting up his whole world, before he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

“d…don’t think y-y-you can.” He whispers, choking on the liquid in his lungs, slipping further and further from awareness, distantly, he hears screaming, then his world fades to black.   
…  
He’s in another operating room. He’s weak, he can’t fight, but he tries anyway, though his chest is tight and he can’t draw in enough air, and where is he, where is Remus, what are they doing to him now?

“None of that, now. Easy, darling.” A gentle but firm hand on his shoulder pushes him back down, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. A scaled, sharp face comes into view. That’s strange, the guards always wear masks, always hide their faces. “we’re fixing you up. You sustained a deep injury to your abdomen, it nicked a vein. You lost a lot of blood and suffered severe internal bleeding and trauma. We need you to stay still, alright?” The being reaches out, carefully stroking his cheek. He leans into the gentle touch, letting his eyes slip closed again. He doesn’t know why, but he believes him. 

“losing him-“ 

“nearly done!” 

“venom-“ 

Then something warm sweeps through his veins and he gasps in a deep breath, the luxury of oxygen in his lungs sweet enough it knocks him unconscious.   
…  
Bits and pieces.   
…  
Someone dabbing at his forehead with a cool rag.   
…  
Soft hands wrapping his abdomen in bandages, that same scaled face coming into view as he hisses in pain, saying something his cotton filled ears can’t comprehend.   
…  
Water, cool, sweet, water, hitting his tongue and he swallows, unable to even open his eyes, hearing the distant murmuring of people talking lowly.   
…  
He tries to call out, tries to reach out, because Remus, where is Remus, he needs to know, he needs to see if he’s safe, if he’s safe!   
…  
He’s fighting, screaming, crying, he can’t stop, he’s afraid, he’s sitting up, barely registering the warm blankets, the softly lit room, trying to lunge to his feet, only succeeding in falling to the ground, gasping in pain at the searing shock of electric ice shooting up his right side, vision blurring, but he can’t stop, he has a gnawing sense in his gut that Remus is in trouble, Remus is hurting, he needs to find Remus! 

“Darling, what are you doing?!” He looks up, blinking several times at Janus’s voice, he thinks that’s what the Naga has said his name is, he can’t quite remember through the haze that fills him. He feels Janus helping him up, settling him back in the bed, pushing him down as he tries to get back up. 

“Remus! Where… where is he… where…” his eyes jerk to the door as it opens, jerking fully aware and awake for the first time in what feels like years, at the sight of a tall, crystalline man and a winged figure carefully carrying Remus. 

“REM!” He cries out, trying to jolt out of bed, jolt to his brother, but Janus just pushes him back again, simply arranging the pillows so he’s halfway sitting up, before Janus backs away, allowing the other two to lay Remus down beside him. Instantly, he is pulling Remus to his chest, running his hands through his brother’s hair, up and down his arms, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to stop watching every inhale and exhale.

“Is he ok? What happened to him? What happened to his hand?” He asks, noticing the bandage wrapped tightly around his knuckles. 

“He is fine. Due to a severe stress reaction, he passed out, after having an emotional outburst. He just needs rest. As do you.” Then the crystal man is gone. The winged one shoots him a small smile before following, leaving only Janus with him, watching him silently for a moment. 

“thank you.” Janus startles at his words, puzzled expression slipping across his face. 

“For what?” 

“For getting him out of there. Getting us out of there. For… for saving him.” He says softly, looking up at Janus, eyes watery. Janus lets out a surprised laugh. 

“You were the one bleeding out in that godawful hellhole, and Logan is the one that patched you up. You were the one dying.” 

“maybe. But he was the one who was gonna pay for it, in the end.” Janus nods, eyes softening with understanding, and Roman gets the feeling that Janus understands perfectly what he means. 

“Well. Get some more sleep. And if you try to get up again, I swear I will knock you out myself.” Janus says, startling a laugh out of him. He sees Janus’s eyes light up, his own smile growing, before he turns and walks out the door with a small wave, leaving them alone.

He pulls Remus a little closer, breathing in his scent as he closes his eyes, safety washing over him. 

…

He wakes slowly, realizing that Remus shifting and stirring is what has woken him up. Immediately, he starts murmuring again, smoothing back Remus’s hair. He can pinpoint the exact moment Remus wakes fully, his eyes shooting up to take in his face, staring at his eyes, breath hitching before Remus buries against him, sobbing. 

“please… please don’t… I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fought, I should have fought harder, I thought you died because of me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I…” Remus trails off, his sobs shaking his entire frame, and Roman holds him closer, his own tears welling to the surface. “I let them take you away, I thought they took you away, they took you.” 

“Remus, Remus, Remus, I know, I know, it’s not your fault, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here, I’m here, and you’re here and we’re safe now.” 

“don’t go. Don’t… don’t go, don’t leave, please, please, don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t go, I can’t… I can’t if you go. Please stay.” Remus begs desperately, eye to eye with him, and he feels his own heart breaking, forcing a smile to his face as he brushes back his brother’s hair.

“I’m not, I’m not going anywhere. I promise, Rem, I absolutely promise.” He yawns, exhaustion slipping back over him like a heavy, comforting blanket, and he feels Remus slip behind him, cradling him against his chest, carding his hands through his hair, and feels… happy, yawning once more as Remus shifts closer.

“Go to sleep, brobro. I’ll be ok. As long as you’re ok, I’ll be ok. And I’m not going anywhere, either. Never, never, never. I swear.” He smiles, letting his eyes slip closed, because he knows Remus will be right there, when he wakes up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman wakes up and meets everyone on the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some angst, something for everyone!

He wakes slowly, this time, like drifting upwards, through soft clouds, and he yawns, stretching, barely wincing at the pull in his right side as he blinks his eyes open, rolling over onto his side. He smiles softly, meeting Remus’s eyes, who is sitting by his bedside, eyes widening as he sees what’s in his hands. 

“Rem… Rem is that… is that a book?” He whispers, almost awestruck. Remus nods, smile wide and brighter than it’s ever been. 

“yeah. It’s a collection of Shakespeare plays. Patton brought it to me, a gift from Logan.” Remus frowns at that name, unconsciously rubbing up and down the spine, the feel soft and so distantly familiar beneath his fingers. 

“Logan… Logan’s the one who saved me.” Remus frowns a bit harder at that, sighing. 

“I am aware. He’s also the one who kept us apart for nearly three days and let me believe you had died.” His mouth drops open in a silent ‘oh’, shifting so he’s sitting up in bed. 

“is that what it was? Right before they brought you in here I… panicked. I could feel something was wrong, with you.” Remus snorts, leaning back in his chair. 

“Yeah, me having a complete breakdown and listing all the ways I could kill myself would probably trigger that for ya.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“I thought you were dead, ok!? I don’t… you’re the only thing I have, Ro. And I thought you were gone.” He softens, reaching out a hand, Remus instantly intertwining their fingers, squeezing tight. 

“I’m not. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Rem. I promise.” Remus smiles, a sad, small smile, as he presses their foreheads together. 

“good. You’re a fighter, Ro. You always have been. You’re so much stronger than me, brobro. So much better than me.” Remus pulls back after a long moment, setting the book aside on a small bedside stand. 

“If you’re feeling up for it, we can take a little walk. Patton’s been showing me around, and I almost know where I’m going, now.” He laughs, relishing the soft grin across his brother’s face, hand pressing against his injury as he sits up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. For a moment, the world spins at the change of elevation. 

“Ro? You good?” He nods, letting Remus sling an arm around his shoulders for support as he stands, legs a bit wobbly, but he balances out after a moment, his wound barely protesting as they head out the door and down the hall.

The ship is made of smooth, softly luminescent metal, that must mimic the day/night cycle automatically. There’s a soft electric hum in the air, a faint hint of static making the hair on his arms stand up. 

“Ro. It’s ok.” He hadn’t realized his breath was speeding up, his hand fisting the fabric of his shirt, and he forces himself to take a few deep breaths in and out. Still, he feels like the corridor is too small, the walls pressing in on him, and he’s endlessly relieved when they reach the end, and the hall widens out into a large communal living space. 

There’s couches, two deep sofa chairs, a few small tables, arranged around the far end of the room. Against the other wall is cabinets and cooking utensils, storage units, obviously the kitchen, an island with a few stools arranged around it. Softly glowing globes sit in alcoves along the walls, lighting the space soothingly, and he gathers from their dimness it must be early evening. 

“Hey kiddo. It’s good to see you up and about!” He stumbles at the peppy voice, Remus’s arm keeping him steady. “Oh, sorry, bud, didn’t mean to startle you.” The winged man apologizes from the kitchen, where he’s cutting up some kind of fruit. 

“I-it’s ok.” He mumbles, suddenly shy and nervous, in front of this new person. When was the last time he met an actual new person? What does he say? What is he supposed to say? God, the silence has gone on too long now, anyway. 

“Easy there, I can feel your stress from way over here.” Remus stiffens slightly at that voice, barely repressing a hiss as he glares daggers at the person sitting in the corner of the room, barely visible from the shadows. 

“Play nice, Virgil, or I will make you.” He relaxes a tad at that voice, coming down the hall behind them, as Janus sweeps into the room, giving him a small smile as he passes, draping himself across one of the chairs. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” Virgil protests, Janus scoffing. 

“Stop it, both of you. Or no dessert.” Both of them sigh dramatically, sinking back in their seats with muttered ‘fines’ or ‘whatevers’, and Roman finds himself smiling again, because this he knows, this bickering back and forth, this instant shutting down of debates, he understands those dynamics. 

“Roman, you already know Janus,” Remus says, and Janus gives a lazy wave and a small smirk, “that pile of shadow in the corner is Virgil, he’s a Wraith.” Remus continues, Virgil giving a small two finger salute. “And that is Feathers! He’s a Seraph.” 

“My actual name is Patton, but you can call me feathers if you like. Or Pat. Or any other nick name you can think of, really!” Patton chirps, wings fluffing happily. 

“Oh. Okay. Um. Nice to meet you all.” He mumbles, gaze flitting from person to person, before settling on the ground in front of him. He lets Remus guide him to one of the couches, laughing as he pulls away from his brother’s fussing, wrapping him in a blanket and cushioning him with pillows until he bats his hands away. 

“I’m fine, Rem, I swear. If I’m not comfy I’ll tell you!” Remus laughs as he stops, ruffling Roman’s hair, who splutters indignantly. Remus smiles, leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch, taking a moment to bask in the softness, the warmth, the comfort. Roman leans against him, resting his head on his shoulder, as he reverently picks up the book from Logan. 

“Where should we start, Ro? Romeo and Juliet? Macbeth? Othello?” He inhales the smell of paper and ink, remembering when they would watch performances online, analyze the costumes, the production, they had always loved theater. 

“No. none of the tragedies, Rem. Something funny.” His eyes light up, as he flips through the book, nearly gasping at the feel of parchment against his fingertips. “There we are. Twelfth Night.” 

“Ah. Good one, Ro. So, shall we pick our characters?” 

“I call Viola/Cesario!” 

“Aw, she’s the best one!” Remus whines, and Roman nudges him. 

“Shut up, you can have Orsino and Olivia.” He placates, Remus sighing dramatically. 

“Fiiine. Let’s go, then!” Remus agrees, excitement lighting up his eyes as they divvy up the rest of the characters. 

It starts off as just reading the lines, but both of them have always been dramatic, and soon they’re creating different voices for the different characters, Remus ends up jumping off the couch, so caught up he starts acting out his scenes, Roman doing the same as best he can from his seat, laughing at Remus’s antics so hard his stomach was aching before they even made it to act two, Remus’s smile and laughter feeding his own. 

Remus is positively aglow, watching Roman laugh, and act, and read, when was the last time he looked so happy, actually laughed, a full bodied, belly aching, laugh? It sounds sweet, so sweet and light and… and carefree, it’s everything he’s ever wanted for his brother, and it makes the knot in his stomach loosen a bit more, because if he’s laughing like this, he really is going to be okay. 

“Don’t mean to break up the party, kiddos, but I’ve got some supper ready, if you feel up to eating.” Patton says, breaking the spell they’ve been weaving of comedic misunderstandings and misplaced crushes, the cobble streets and arcing castles fading away into the metal walls and dim lights of the ship. 

Virgil is looking at the two of them, faint amusement tracing itself across his lips. Janus is still languid in his chair, but his head is tilted ever so slightly towards them, clearly having been watching their performance. And Patton is grinning from the kitchen, six plates sitting on the counter. 

“That was actually… pretty good.” Virgil comments, surprise in his voice. 

“Of course it was! I may be rusty, but once an actor, always an actor! It’s like riding a bike!” Roman blurts out, striking a pose, the bravado of his characters giving him a bit of courage. He’s rewarded by Remus’s snort, gently bumping him with his shoulder. 

“More like drama nerd than actor.” Roman gasps, mock offense on his face. 

“You’re lucky I’m injured, Remus, or I would be challenging you to a duel right now!” 

“You’re lucky you’re my brother, otherwise I wouldn’t go easy on you and let you win.” Remus bites back, rolling his eyes. 

“um, am the only one caught up on the ‘bike’ thing? The hell is that?” Virgil mumbles. 

“It is a human form of transportation, consisting of a metal frame, which two wheels are attatched to. It is powered by the human peddling, and steered by handles attatched to the wheels, upon which pressure breaks are also mounted to allow for an easy stop to the kinetic motion.” Remus freezes at that voice, stiffening instantly, eyes turning cold and hard, and Roman knows instantly it must be Logan, as he peers over the top of the couch. 

“Oh, that’s neat!” Patton comments, oblivious to the tension in the room, or just ignoring it. “Suppers done, if you want some! I just made mac ‘n cheese.” 

“holy shit.” Roman whispers, eyes wide. “that’s… I can… can I have some?” He asks, hesitantly, immediately wincing at his question, waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for the pain. 

“of course, Roman! I made plenty for everyone.” 

“I’ll go get you a plate, yeah? You wanna stay out here, or go back to our room?” Remus asks softly. 

“Out here. It’s… nice.” Roman answers, smiling smally as Remus ruffles his hair again, kissing the top of his head. 

Remus instantly hardens as he turns away from Roman, making a wide berth around the hallway entryway, where Logan is standing, unable to help glancing at him every few seconds. 

It wasn’t only that Logan had been the one to make the decision to keep them apart. He didn’t like that decision, but he did appreciate the obvious attempt at keeping Roman safe, the care for his injury. He’d been harsh in his words, in the moment, cruel in them, but he’d been hurt and not thinking clearly, and though it was the cruelest thing that had ever been done to him, it hadn’t been intentional. 

But there was something about him that reminded Remus much too much of The Scientist, as they called him, the way he stood, the formality of his speaking, the… the aura, he gave off. He doesn’t trust the way he moves, the way his gaze seems to see through him, the way he seems to analyze and take mental notes of every movement, every word, everything about him sets Remus’s instincts ablaze, screaming at him fight or flight, and it takes everything in him not to do either, just to steadily scoop some of the gooey, delicious smelling food onto two plates and walk back to Roman, settling stiffly onto the couch beside him, every muscle tense and breath hissing in and out. 

“I should… retire back to my chambers. Apologies, I didn’t know the two of you were out here.” 

“It’s fine-“   
“You should go-“ 

Remus exchanges a look with Roman, who’s frowning at him, head tilted slightly, as he always does when he’s serious. 

“You should stay.” Roman says firmly, voice brooking no argument, and Remus scowls, looking away, but not disagreeing. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I would rather avoid causing either of you distress. I had noticed several times in the past, that my presence caused a stress reaction in Remus, and I would not want to intrude. I… will continue doing my best to not be nusaince, to either of you.” Logan states, quickly grabbing a plate and leaving the room. Several moments later, they hear the click of his door shutting, and Roman huffs, glaring at Remus. 

“What? I didn’t say anything?!” He protests, and Roman’s eyes narrow. 

“You didn’t have to! You looked like you were gonna jump him at any second! He saved my life, Ree, you have to give him something for that.” Remus sighed and looked away, idly pushing the food around on his plate. 

“I know. I know I’m not being fair, Ro.” Roman softened, bumping Remus’s leg with his. 

“So what is it that’s really upsetting you?” 

“he scares me. The way he speaks, moves, talks, acts… it’s all… it’s Him. And I can’t not see Him, when I see Logan. I keep waiting for… for His voice, for Him to announce this experiment over, for Him to… to take you away again, and I know it’s not Him, and I know this is real, but how do I even know what real is anymore?” His voice cracks, and he realizes he’s crying again, and he shakes his head. “It’s all… it’s so fucked, Ro.” 

“I know. I… I’m sorry.” Remus frowns, looking at Roman, who’s pushing around the food on his plate, still too pale, and far too thin, and he nearly laughs. 

“you’re sorry? What the hell for? None of this is your fault! Definitely not the getting kidnapped and dragged to space thing, and certainly not the almost dying part, and definitely nothing in between!” 

“I should have been braver. They… they split us up, and I know you were so afraid, I was too, but they used that against you, and I should have stood up to them, like you always did, I should have fought, since you couldn’t anymore, I shouldn’t have let them keep taking you, I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have been relieved every time they took you instead of me! I hate it Ree, I hate that, that, I was such a coward! I was glad it was you and not me! How… how selfish is that?” Roman laughs, but it’s a pained, broken sound, and Remus instantly wraps his brother in a hug, slotting his head against Roman’s shoulder as he shakes.

“it’s not. It’s not selfish, Roman, you don’t need to be ashamed of that, you were plenty brave, brobro, you were plenty strong. They never broke your smile, they never stole your laugh, and that defiance made them angrier than anything, Ro. You kept me going, every day, you’re the only reason I never just gave up, and I would never have let you fight them, Roman, no matter how badly you wanted to, I would never have let you take that chance. Don’t be guilty because you were happy not to get hurt, that’s just self preservation, Ro. I would never fault you for that. All of it is their fault. All of it.” He feels Roman shaking harder, can feel the tears dripping onto his shirt, and he just squeezes Roman tighter, wishing he could absorb all of Roman’s pain, wishing he could take it all, even if it would kill him, he would take it all. 

“I think I wanna go back to bed.” Roman mumbles, voice trembling, and Remus pulls back, nodding. 

“ok. Can you eat a bit, for me, first? You’re still healing, and we don’t want you getting sick on top of that.” 

“yeah.” Roman whispers, the life and spirit from the play reading nearly completely gone, and it breaks Patton’s heart a little more, seeing that glimpse of who Roman could be, should have been, would have been if their lives hadn’t been ripped out from under them. He exchanges a glance with Virgil, whom is frowning as well, likely feeling whatever sadness or hopelessness is radiating off the two humans. It must be strong, his eyes are darker than normal, his form flickering black at the edges. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he knows Janus can, he has better hearing than the rest of them, and from the focused tilt of his head, subtly leaning towards them from his chair, he’s listening to every word. 

Eventually they pull apart from their hug, and Roman eats some of the food, his eyes widening, delight lighting up his face, some of the life sparking back to his eyes as he digs in, absolutely devouring the mac ‘n cheese. Remus rolls his eyes, eating his own a bit slower, though the taste of actual, real, true food still nearly sends him to tears. 

“You want more?” Remus asks softly, but Roman shakes his head, already fighting to keep his eyes open. He’s warm and full and can almost believe he’s safe. He blinks open his eyes at Remus’s soft chuckle, brushing back his hair. “it’s alright, ro. You can go to sleep.” He murmurs, careful as he scoops Roman into his arms, who immediately lets his eyes drift closed, nestling his head against Remus’s chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More hints of Janus's backstory, and a bit more of the brothers' as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm updating all my projects today, hooray!

“Virg? You ok?” Patton asks softly, the black still flickering at his edges, and he sighs, shoving his hand through his hair. 

“yeah. It just… it comes and goes so fast with them. One moment they’re fine, and the next they’re plummeting. I can’t brace myself for it.” Virgil replies, taking a deep breath in, and out, his form becoming more solid with each one. 

Wraiths fed off negativity. Negative feelings, emotions, words, it gave them power. They could twist the dark to their will, bend shadows into monsters, could influence people’s thoughts and actions, and turn into shadowy, ghost like beings, hence the name ‘wraith’. 

Virgil didn’t like feeding off of people’s misery, he didn’t thrive on it like others of his kind, didn’t relish all the myths and legends borne from his race. He rarely used his abilities, only if he or one of the others were in danger, though he tended to turn intangible when stressed or worried, going from his solid, humanoid form to a shadowy mass of smoke. 

“They’ve been through so much. It’s only natural.” Janus replies softly, staring up at the ceiling. “They’re starting to trust us, though.” 

“They’re starting to trust you and Patton. Remus doesn’t like me as far as he can throw me, and he flat out despises Logan.” 

“No he doesn’t.” Janus interrupts, sitting up properly in the chair, eyes serious. “He doesn’t hate Logan, or you, for that matter. He’s afraid of you.” Virgil frowns, looking away. 

“And that’s better?” 

“Yes.” Both Janus and Patton say at the same time. 

“it is. Because you can show them, every day, you can show them, that there’s no reason to fear you, and slowly they’ll start to trust.” Patton answers firmly. 

“hate is harder to erase. It stains everything, it leaves no room for accidents or mistakes. Everything you do is malicious. Fear… can be unlearned so much easier. It allows for errors, it allows for apologies, it allows for growth.” Janus finishes, sighing and stretching as he stands, wincing slightly at the ache in his shoulder. It’s an old wound, long healed, but it still likes to act up every once in a while, usually when he’s stressed or worried, both of which he is now. 

He sees too much of himself in the brothers, that’s his problem. He was young, when he was taken, had to be, else he would have known how to fight back properly, else his fangs would have been fully developed and with a single scratch he could have killed them all, but he was old enough to still have memories of his nest mates. 

To remember warmth and comfort and a soft, lulling voice singing haunting melodies through the night. To remember the laughter of his siblings, of his cousins, of all the other children of the den, to know there had been squabbles and disagreements and play fighting and always, at the end of the night, they all curled together in a pile, sprawled across and under and over each other. They were so attuned to physical touch, needed it, needed the warmth it provided, both physical and mental, losing that had been its own kind of torture. 

At least they have each other. He can’t even remember their names, let alone faces. All he has of his mother is that distant, soft crooning. All he has of his family is the faint feel of warmth. He wonders often if it would be better if he had nothing at all. He swallows hard, realizing Patton had asked him a question, and Virgil was looking at him with concern. He swallows past the lump in his throat, shoving back the emotions that come with these thoughts, because if he lets himself think a moment longer, they will overtake the tall, sturdy wall he has built in his mind to protect himself from the ache of almost memories. 

“Janus… please.” Patton says, and he knows what he’s asking without saying it. Patton is asking him to stay, asking him not to run, asking him to talk about it, asking him for his full story, something he’s never really given, the curt summary of his history to Remus is all he’s ever told the others, but if he gives in to Patton, he won’t be able to hold it back. He won’t be able to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was. He won’t be able to stop. 

“I can’t… pat, I trust you with my life, but I… I can’t go back there. I can’t do it all again. That’s… that’s what saying it all would be, it would be doing all of it all over again, and I can’t…” He inhales shakily, nearly jumping out of his skin when Virgil takes his hand, turning him so they’re face to face. 

“breath, Jan. In and out.” Virgil coaches softly, catching him at the edge of the abyss and slowly walking him back until the past fades away and he’s back in the present. 

“I’m going to bed now.” He says, a bit flat, a bit distant, and without a second glance, he turns and walks away, closing and locking his door behind him, before he collapses on his bed and stares numbly at the ceiling, determined not to feel a thing, until he manages to fall asleep.  
…

He can’t sleep. He doesn’t know why, he’s exhausted, he has been for nearly forever, but for some reason he can’t let it go tonight. That’s why he’s pacing the room, appreciating the soft glow of the ship, appreciating the lack of total darkness. 

The door is open, and he keeps glancing down the hallway, as if expecting something to come attack, some monster to appear, some shadow demon to charge, though really, that’s basically Virgil. But the thought of being trapped, in this enclosed space, of the dark creeping in, is too much to bear.

He shivers again, because Virgil had apologized, about what he’d done, and meant it, and he understood, why Virgil had plunged him into that nightmare. He was protecting his family, and he understands that all too well, far too well to hold it against someone, but the residual fear still clings to him, adds another nightmare to his already long roster, and maybe he’s not sleeping because then he’ll have to experience all of it again. 

He shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, growling under his breath, because there’s too much energy, it feels like his legs are sparking with it, and this movement of pacing is barely holding it at bay. 

Or maybe it’s the conversation from earlier, what Roman said, earlier, because despite all his reassurances, he knows Roman still blames himself for their getting taken in the first place. Which is stupid, incredibly stupid, but all his words will never dissuade Roman of that idea.   
…  
It wasn’t like they could have predicted it. They were camping, with their parents, an activity they did almost every weekend in the summer. Most times, they stayed close to home, just local county campgrounds with some hiking trails and jungle gyms, grilling out and sitting at a campfire telling stories until the moon was high in the sky. Those were the best, tired and sleepy, but still refusing to go to bed as the fire crackled, sending embers dancing through the air, while Dad read to them, Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, any fantasy book they could get their hands on. 

Usually once or twice a summer, they packed up for a longer trip, one of the cool state campgrounds up north, with real forests and towering trees and lakes, and an air of mystery that the small wooded parks just didn’t have. They always had sing a longs in the car, Disney and theater music, and twizzlers, road trip twizzlers had somehow become a tradition. Him and Roman bickered and fought on the three, four hour ride, and their parents laughingly broke it up, until they both eventually passed out, waking up when they arrived. 

This had been one of those trips. Deep, actual forest, sleeping in tents, the smell of pine and earth and crisp air all day, it was his favorite thing in the world! It was the end of their second day there, which they’d spent hiking around the lake, trying to imitate bird calls, and he had been howling, trying to attract wolves all day, much to Roman’s dismay.

It was dark, when Roman shook him awake. They’d gone to bed early, tired out from their activities, so he wasn’t surprised to look at the battery powered clock in their tent to see it was only one am. 

“Rem. Rem, did you see it?” Roman asked, shaking him again, and he lightly shoved Roman off of him, rubbing at his eyes. 

“did I see what, Ro?” He asked tiredly. Roman’s eyes were huge as saucers, and he was practically vibrating with excitement. 

“the fairy.” He whispered conspiratorially, grinning, the gap in his bottom teeth visible where he’d recently lost a tooth. They’d both gotten in trouble for that one, but Roman had said it was wiggling, so of course Remus had volunteered to pull it out! 

“what? Ro, you were just dreaming, go back to sleep.” He replied, rolling his eyes. Roman was ten, his imagination wilder than Remus’s at times, and he sometimes had trouble telling what was real and what wasn’t. He was a proud adult, at thirteen, and didn’t believe in things like fairies anymore, though he always humored Roman. He hated upsetting his little brother more than anything, and he could tell he had now, as Roman’s lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes. He usually wasn’t this emotional, but he guessed the little guy was still a bit sleep deprived and grumpy. 

“There is! I saw its light!” He bit his lip skeptically. The best thing to do was play along. 

“Easy, Ro. I believe you did see something, just, are you sure it was a fairy, and not just someone else’s flashlight or distant fire, or something? You know fairies are very rare.” He added, so Roman wouldn’t be offended. Roman scrunched his eyes, thinking hard for a moment. 

“No. it wasn’t either of those. I know what that looks like, Ree, this was blue!” He sighed, alright, no getting out of this, then. 

“Ok. We can go check it out, quickly, alright? Put on your shoes, and we’ll look around. If we don’t see anything, will you go back to bed?” Roman nodded enthusiastically, already with one shoe half on. He grumbled and threw on a sweater, before quietly unzipping the tent door and stepping out into the night air. 

It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The ground was already slightly wet from dew, and it was very dark. He was careful to keep his flashlight pointed at the ground, away from the parent’s tent a few feet away, shushing Roman as he came out, zipping the tent closed. 

“ok, Ro. Where did you see it?” He whispered, his voice sounding huge in the relative silence of the night. The trees swayed above in a soft breeze, and he shivered. 

“over there!” Roman whispered back, pointing towards the edge of the site. Carefully, he walked towards it, aware of the crunch of old leaves beneath his feet as he shone his light around the edge of camp. He didn’t see anything. He didn’t hear anything, either, which was odd. 

That’s why it felt so loud and eerie. There were no crickets chirping, no night birds calling, no ambient sound from animals foraging through the underbrush. It was completely, unnaturally silent. 

He swallowed hard, taking a step back, suddenly regretting all of his wolf howling from earlier. What if he really had attracted a large predator? That would explain the lack of noise, and the eerie, prickling feeling of unseen eyes on him. There could be a wolf, waiting to pounce, or a cougar up in a tree, he’d heard stories of them attacking people, they were nearly invisible in the woods, or- 

“There!” He saw a flash of light, bright and deep and blue, come from deeper in the woods, and before he could say a word, Roman was sprinting past him, chasing after the ‘fairy light’. He cursed, and took off after his brother, unwilling to leave him alone to get lost in the woods and attacked by a bear or whatever lurked around here. 

“Roman! Wait up!” He yelled, panting, speeding up as he heard Roman let out a yell, cut short. “RO!” He screamed again, but something sharp pierced his neck and he staggered, head spinning, vision blurring as he lost balance and fell to the ground. He reached up and weakly pulled something that looked almost like a dart from his neck, shaking with effort as he crawled forwards, just managing to get to Roman before he blacked out completely. 

When they woke up, they had been in the cell. That pitch black, empty, desolate cell. The only good thing was that they were together. But they were terrified and confused and alone, and Remus had to stay strong, he had to hold in his tears, he had to act brave, for Roman. 

Over the years, they’d picked up the ‘Common’ as it was called, the language the different guards and scientists and Him spoke with, learned it on their own, though they’d never learned to read it. It hadn’t taken too long, for them to realize what was happening, that they’d been abducted, like in one of the scary movies they weren’t supposed to watch, but that wasn’t the worst part. 

The worst part was the stupid, aching, hope, that had lingered, strong and fierce for the first few days, the first few weeks, even, that they’d be let go. That’s what happened, in books and movies, the people were taken by aliens, and probed or whatever, and then put back on earth with no memory of what had happened. That hope had died a slow and agonizing death, over the months that turned to years, that turned to a decade of repeated, endless, horrors.

...

He shakes his head again, trying to clear it, trying to force back those memories, because they hurt, anything from before just hurts, and he’s never had time to think of it, before. He was always waiting for the next procedure or trap or experiment, always planning his and Roman’s survival, he’d never been allowed time to grieve or think or remember. 

He tries to take a deep breath, and almost succeeds, swiping at his eyes. He feels wide awake, almost electrified, his every atom buzzing for movement, and he curls his hands into fists just so they stop shaking. He glances at Roman, who is still fast asleep, curled in bed, and sighs. Water, maybe some water will help. He’s been assured by Patton that the ship is open to him, day or night, that he’s free to eat or drink whatever he wants, that everyone shares responsibilities and chores and food on the ship, and he won’t get in trouble for using something. That doesn’t make it any easier, to cross the threshold of his room, his nerves on fire as he tiptoes past every door, holding his breath, jumping at every shadow until he makes into the common area. Again, the openness of it both soothes him and frightens him. There’s so many places to run, if he needs to, but so many places for enemies to come from, and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a noise from the kitchen area, breath halting as he sees glowing silver eyes staring back at him, almost as startled as he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry bout the bit of a cliff hanger. Deal with it, lovelies!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus talks it out with Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any one up for some good ol emotional breakdowns?

Remus’s breath catches and he’s backing up, backed into a wall, backed into a corner. He can feel his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs, and it’s dark, too dark, and suddenly he’s back, back in the cell, back in the black, except it’s smaller, it’s so much smaller, iron bands wrapped around his arms and legs, climbing up him until he can’t even wiggle his fingers, until they cover his mouth, then his nose, and he can’t breathe, he’s suffocating, they’re suffocating him, and he wants to scream, but he can’t, he can’t, and he can hear Him, whispering, taunting, just like he always does, it echoes in his ears along with his silent scream until they’re ringing and there’s still no air- 

Contact. He flinches, lets out a garbled shout that comes out as more of a strained whimper. The touch quickly moves to withdraw, but instinctively his hand shoots out, latching onto the contact like it’s the only thing left in reality, and he’s drowning, drowning in his own mind, his own thoughts, his own memories

“remus.” His name finally makes it through the ringing in his ears and his head shoots up, wild eyes locking onto whoever’s face, Logan’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, because it’s not Him, it’s not Him, it’s not Him! “can you nod, if you can hear me?” Logan’s voice is soft, softer than he’s heard it before, and there’s emotion in it too, instead of the clinical cold tone that sets his teeth grating. Slowly, with effort, he manages a nod. “that’s good. You need to breathe, ok? Can you breathe in, 1,2,3,4” Logan counts, and he screws up on that, the very first part, and his heart rate rockets up a notch, because now comes the punishment, now comes the pain, now comes the hurt, as a result of his failure, of his stupidity, he can’t do this, he can’t do anything-

“it’s ok, Remus. It is perfectly fine. Let’s try again, ok? Just do whatever you can. No one is going to hurt you. You’re doing fine.” Logan, again, soft and… and worried? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t sound angry, as he starts counting again, and Remus tries, in fits and starts and gasps, he tries, until finally, he can breathe again, and he collapses into a ball on the floor, gasping sobs flooding out of him in bitter waves as his head clears from the thoughts, from the memories, from the fears, from the pure intensity of his emotion, one that doesn’t even have a name, just a mix of sorrow and loss and fear and deep, keening pain. 

He realizes Logan is still there, has dropped to the floor with him, and he feels guilty at pulling him down too, realizing he’s still gripping his arm, probably hard enough it hurts, and between breaths he gasps out an apology. 

“It’s perfectly fine, Remus. You can hold on as long and as tight as you need. Do you want me to get someone else? I… know you are not fond of me.” He shakes his head, because he can’t, he can’t be left alone like this, he can’t force himself to let go, or he’ll drown again, and he’s afraid if he plummets again he will hit the ground and smash into a million pieces. 

“okay. Did you have a nightmare?” Logan asks softly, and he laughs, because the last decade has been a waking nightmare, half of Roman’s entire life has been a waking nightmare, and he apparently cannot function unless he’s being tortured, because he’s fallen apart more since he’s been rescued than the entire time he was held captive!

“that’s only natural, Remus. While under such extreme duress you didn’t have time to question or think, every moment was spent on survival. Your mind is trying to process ten years of trauma all at once. It’s not easy, it’s not something your brain is made to do, it shouldn’t be something you have to experience in the first place. It is only natural that now that your body has realized it doesn’t need to expend all it’s energy on fighting, that it’s trying to understand and comprehend everything you’ve been through.” He uncurls slightly, looking up at Logan, face so different from the impassive mask he is used to, softened around the eyes and mouth, a slight frown on his lips, sympathy and worry and pain in his clouded silver eyes. 

“it just got so loud. I’ve… I’ve always been shit, at dealing with it, I always get nightmares, I always… I hate sleeping, I can’t…” He’s on the edge of losing it again, and he forces himself to breathe, forces himself to take deep breaths, but he’s lost what he’s saying. He feels Logan gently squeeze his arm back, and knows he understands what he’s trying to say, at least. 

“it’s ok to be angry. It’s okay to be furious. It’s ok to want to hurt the people who did this to you, it’s ok to want to destroy them, it’s ok to want your life back, it’s ok to scream and shout and punch things because it isn’t fair. Because it isn’t. It’s ok to grieve, Remus. However that looks for you, it’s ok.” Logan near whispers, and he’s silenced for a moment at the ferocity in his voice, at the venom when he spoke of the captors, and then he breaks again, surprising Logan as he falls against him, his tears reduced to sniffles now. 

“I want them back. I want my parents back, I want them to know we’re safe, I want them to know what happened, I want them to have closure, they probably think we got dragged off by cougar or something, they probably think we’re dead. I want Roman to have gone to middle school, to have gotten to high school, to have tried out for every school play, because he’s such a fucking good singer and actor, I want to have helped him run lines and gone to every performance and I would have beat up anyone who made fun of him for being into theater. I want him to have gone to college or gotten an audition and ended up on broadway, and I would have been in the front row screaming, cheering him on, and so would our parents. I want to have gone to high school, have gone to college, have become an artist, an animator, done something with my life other than be a fucking lab rat, and I know it’s not fair, and I know I can’t have any of that, but I’m so damn angry because the two of us can’t stop blaming ourselves for shit that they did to us!” He yells, shaking with exhaustion, spent and empty yet again, angry tears dripping down his face. “and I hate them. Because I want to hurt them, I want to tear them apart, I want to watch them scream and writhe and beg for mercy before I kill them with my bare hands. I’m just… I’m just like them. They made me their monster and I hate myself for it.” 

“No. You’re not a monster for wanting that, Remus. You aren't Them, for wanting that. You have a reason to hurt them, a damn good one, too. It’s not wrong to want revenge, though taken too far it can be damaging. They are the monsters. They had no reason to hurt you, yet they did, for their own selfish gain. That’s what makes them monsters.” Logan answers, voice shaking, but surprisingly fierce, and Remus feels him hugging him, firm and protective. “it took me a long time to learn, I still am learning, that it is ok to feel negative emotions, necessary, or you will never be able to let go of it all and move forwards. It hurts and it’s terrifying, but it gets better.”

“does it?” he asks softly, he’s so tired and broken and so far beyond caring.

“Yes. There's not a single one of us on this ship that hasn’t gone through some kind of trauma, and I swear it gets better. Not fast. Not easily. But it does.”

“What? You… but you’re so…” Remus gestured to all of Logan as he pulls back, eyes wide, and Logan lets out a humorless laugh.

“Yes, well, appearances aren’t always what they seem, are they? We each have a reason we got into the rescue and rehabilitation business. We've all lost something to the trade.” He sits silent for a moment, considering Logan, head tilted as he tries to make sense of him.

“while… while we are speaking, I would like your input on something.” Logan pauses, and Remus nods for him to continue, a bit wary. “I know you dislike me, for obvious reasons, but I do not wish you to be afraid of me. I… is there anything I can do differently, anything I can do to make you more comfortable in my presence, I… anything you need, just ask it.” 

“oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that. He doesn’t know how to answer. He feels more at ease with Logan now, after he had talked him down from his panic, had helped so much, but he’s afraid that in the light of day, he won’t be able to help himself, help the fear, help the instinctual panic at the way he speaks, moves, acts. “it’s… it’s not you. You’re… fine.” He mumbles, fiddling with his sleeve. “you… I mean, I get it. You were protecting him, and I get that. I… wasn’t at my most lucid. I don’t mean what I said, anymore. I know you weren’t… weren’t trying to hurt me. Even if I can’t quite forgive you for it yet, I’m not… mad… about it anymore.” 

“then what is it, Remus? You don’t have to tell me, you don’t need to, I just… I want to be able to help.” Logan asks, reaching out, and he doesn’t pull away, as Logan slowly rests a hand atop his. 

“it’s not even to do with you, really. It’s… Him. The Scientist.” He says, nearly whispers, irrationally afraid that saying the name will summon him. “he… he moved, like you do. Had the same, I don’t know, the same sound to him that you usually do. But you don’t sound like that now. You don’t… you don’t make me think of Him now.” He replies, staring at the ground, aware of Logan’s gentle exhale, close to a sigh. 

“He was probably the same race as me. Straevion. We are… curious, intellectual. We learn things very fast and very thoroughly. Most of us become scientists or engineers or mathematicians. We love exploring, discovering, studying. And many of us are ethical, interacting and learning from different species we encounter, respecting and studying the cultures, the language, the worlds. We thrive on learning, really. But there are many who see themselves as above, as better than, because we are more technologically advanced than many worlds, therefore those worlds are lesser, those peoples lesser. They see other races as not really other peoples at all, just animals. It’s wrong, and horrendous, and despicable, and I hate that the Council that rules our world does nothing to stop it. That’s why I do this, Remus. Because somebody has to stop it. I know that it’s a reflex. That it is ingrained that my general appearance equals pain, but I will never knowingly hurt you. And if I accidentally hurt you, tell me immediately so I can rectify the situation and avoid causing harm in the future. I swear it.” Logan’s voice is serious and heated, and passionate, and a smile pulls at the corners of Remus’s lips, because Logan is so much different than Him. He just has to try and remember that, try and push past his first instinct to run. 

“ok.” He whispers, meeting Logan’s eyes for a moment, before looking away, though it was long enough to see the slight smile on his own face, enough to see Logan once again understood without him having to say all the words what he meant. “I, um. I came out here for some water, before I, y’know, broke down. I’m… sorry. For unloading all that. On you.” He mumbles, face going a bit red. 

“Oh, of course. You’re perfectly fine, Remus, I am happy to listen and help talk you through your thoughts, if that is something that helps.” Logan replies, getting to his feet, reaching out a hand to help him up. Remus hesitates for a moment before taking it, a bit wobbly on his feet, as he settles on one of the stools at the kitchen island, realizing the light has gotten brighter. It must be early morning. No wonder he was so tired, he hadn’t slept at all, and he’d had an emotional breakdown. He runs a hand through his already ruffled hair, letting out a soft groan. 

Logan sets a glass of water on the counter before him, and he slowly sips at it, despite his desire to chug it. Still, he empties it quickly, and Logan quietly refills it for him. He rests his head on his arms atop the counter, letting out another long sigh, tiredness filling every inch of his bones, but his mind is still whirring a thousand miles a minute, the reason he couldn’t sleep in the first place, he was never able to silence his mind. 

“You have insomnia.” Logan says, though it has the hint of a question. He nods, enjoying the feel of the cool counter against his forehead. The luxury of having space is incredible. 

“where are we going?” he asks, suddenly, curious, his mind wandering and trying to focus on anything other than the thoughts in the dark spaces. 

“Pardon?” 

“I mean, we’re on a spaceship, yeah? You can’t just be drifting pointlessly.” He gasps, shooting upwards. “Is there a window? Like, can you see out, into the stars and stuff? Galaxies and planets and stars, oh my!” he giggles slightly to himself, realizing he’s losing it a little, loopyness setting in a bit. Logan just chuckles, raising an eyebrow. 

“There is. We have a star map, where we chart our courses. The room also doubles somewhat as an observatory, with rounded, slightly tinted windows, so the light of passing suns and stars don’t damage anyone’s eyes. Virgil still can’t tolerate the brightness, his kind is especially sensitive to light. As for a course, we are currently heading towards a small, mostly plains biome planet known as Drakkia. We intend to stock up on supplies, as well as gather resources and information. Also some new clothes for the two of you, as well as things to decorate your rooms, if you like. If… you intend on staying, anyways.” His eyes are wide as he stares through Logan, imagination running wild, because the thought of stepping off a ship, feeling actual, solid land beneath his feet, feeling a sun on his skin, even though it’s not his sun, still… still.

“Remus?” He realizes he’s crying again, and he shakes his head, snapping back to reality, smile bittersweet. 

“it’s been ten years since I stepped foot on a planet. Our whole world was the cell, the lab, and the testing rooms.” He says softly, just barely catching the stricken look on Logan’s face, the flash of anger that vanishes quickly as he takes a deep breath. 

“well. You are no longer confined anymore. We will arrive in approximately two days. That being said, I can show you the observatory later. I am the chief navigator, if you are interested in how the ship itself flies and works.” He perks up again at that, excited. 

“I loved building things. I even made a few robots, before. Always got in trouble for taking things apart to figure out how they worked. Wouldn’t’ve been a problem, cept I could never put it back together right. Started a loooot of fires.” Logan chuckles again, shaking his head. 

“Do your best not to light anything on fire while onboard, please.” Remus snorts, head thumping back down against the counter, giving a thumbs up. 

“Lo, did you start the coffee already? Oh. Hi.” Virgil, sounding a bit tired himself, and he gave a small wave without removing his head from the counter. 

“I did not.” Wait.

“Coffee?! You have coffee!? I was gonna fall asleep on the stool, and there’s caffeine here!?” He shrieks, glancing between the two slightly taken aback aliens with wide, excited eyes. 

“Um. Yup. No one else aboard can really handle it, it’s a little like poison to them, but I’m less physical, of a being so it doesn’t do much. I take it you want some?” Virgil asks, clearly holding back a snicker. 

“I was hoping you would get some actual sleep instead of choosing to stay awake via drugs that would literally make my heart explode.” Logan replies, looking sternly at them both. Earlier, that look would have set his heart racing, his pulse panicking, but now, that fear is easy to push through with a scoff. 

“What kind of a heathen are you? Coffee is the drink of the gods. It’s barely a drug, have you ever had Meth? Now that is a drug that will get you buzzed. Heroin isn’t so bad, though, it mostly just makes you feel good and sleepy. Must be why they didn’t use it as often. Acid though,” he shivers at the thought, “that just is wild. I always had a bad time with that one.” He looks up, and realizes Logan’s face has darkened again, and Virgil is looking at him with mild concern and something soft, before he turns away, and pulls out the cups without commenting. 

“Remus… “ Logan starts, but sighs, trailing off and shaking his head. He’s about to say something else, when he hears a scream from down the hall and his head whips around.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus calms Roman.

“shit. Fuck.” Remus curses, taking off, banging against the wall as he slides back into his room, instantly atop the bed and letting Roman cling to him, murmuring apologies and soft words, rubbing his back. 

“Shh, shhh, it’s ok, Ro, it’s ok, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s alright roro.” 

“Ree…r-ree” He strokes his hand through Roman’s hair, rocking and humming quietly, slowly bring Roman out of whatever nightmare world he’d been in. He can feel Roman’s shaking stopping, his breath evening out. 

“you back, brobro?” He asks, smiling gently as he sees Roman’s clear brown eyes looking back up at him. 

“yeah. S-sorry. I j-just panicked.” 

“it’s ok, Ro. It’s alright. I’m sorry I was gone, I didn’t mean to scare you. I had… my own little breakdown last night.” 

“you did? Are, you ok?” He snorts out a laugh, kissing the top of Roman’s head. 

“me and Logan talked it out. Well, some of it. We’re…better. And they have coffee, so.” He shrugs, and Roman lets out a small laugh, eyes bright as he pulls away, rubbing his arm a bit self consciously.

“Kiddos? You two alright? I heard a scream.” Remus jumps at the voice from the doorway, Roman laughing at him. He replies by sticking out his tongue, slipping off the bed to his feet. 

“We’re fine, Feathers. Roman just had a nightmare, and I haven’t slept in… hm, twenty six and a half hours?” 

“What? That’s not healthy! Remus!” Patton scolds, and he just shrugs. 

“It’s not the longest I’ve gone. Just over three days is my record, I think. Though they did something to me that time.” 

“That was the thing that made your veins all orange. When you finally passed out, you slept for almost two straight days.” Roman answers. 

“Oh kiddos. I’m sorry.” Remus looks at him, a bit puzzled. 

“Why? It’s not like you did anything to us.” He replies simply, turning back to Roman. “You wanna go get something to eat?” Roman rolls his eyes. 

“I know you just want your coffee, Ree.” 

“You don’t know! Maybe I just wanna take care of my baby brother!” Roman laughs, letting Remus wrap an arm around his shoulders to support him as he stands. 

“I’m only three years younger than you. That’s not that big a difference.” He points out, and Remus shrugs. 

“Still younger than me! And we do still need to eat.” He helps Roman settle on the couch, before practically skipping over to the counter, inhaling deeply the smell of roasted coffee. Oh, it’s music to his nose, and he picks up the steaming mug, barely restraining himself from chugging the whole thing immediately, instead taking a small sip, nearly moaning in pure indulgence as he sinks into a stool, lost in a world of beautiful bitterness with just a touch of cream.

“enjoying yourself?” Virgil asks, and he can hear the smirk in the Wraith’s voice, as he flips him off, figuring that’s a pretty universal gesture. He’s proven right at Virgil’s sharp laugh, opening his eyes in time to see him slap a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter. 

“Play nice kiddos.” Patton says lightly, starting to pull ingredients out of the cupboards. Remus scrunches his brows, trying to catalogue the ingredients. He gasps, legs kicking in excitement. 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yells, making Virgil jump and hiss, Roman peek over the top of the couch, and Patton let out a squeak. 

“Language, kiddo.” 

“ISTHATPANCAKEBATTERAREYOUMAKINGPANCAKES?” Rushes out of his mouth, as he rockets out of his seat, around the counter, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can I help?” He asks, excitedly, before flinching back, realizing what he’d just done, shouting, talking out of turn, asking for something, and he stills, bites his tongue, looking down and away. “sorry. I don’t… you don’t have to. I shouldn’t.” 

“It is pancakes, Remus. And you are definitely welcome to help. I have the recipe memorized, but you can pour and mix, if you want!” He steels a glance up. Patton’s face is soft and genuine, not a hint of anger or malice, and he relaxes slightly, though he doesn’t get as loud or bouncy as he was earlier. 

Patton frowns slightly, at his sudden quietness, his concern growing as he measures out the ingredients then lets Remus dump them into a bowl. He’s careful and slow, frequently glancing at Patton to make sure he isn’t fucking anything up, containing his chaos and stirring carefully, making sure not to get a single drop of batter on the counter. 

He passes the bowl off to Patton, standing at the edge of the counter, hands folded behind him, trying to contain his need to sway, flinching back at the sizzle of the batter in the pan. 

For a moment he is somewhere else. For a moment that sizzling heat is against his palm, the smell of burning flesh filling the room, his own skin smelling like cooked meat, making him sick, nauseas with the searing, endless, burning, that continues even after they take his hand off the hot plate of metal. It’s still bubbling and burning, somehow hurting more as it’s exposed to air, though he only screams when they plunge it into ice water, blacking out from the violent clashing sensations of hot and cold. 

Then he feels something soft and snaps back to himself, realizing he was staring glassy eyed through Patton, and he rubs his hand as he winces, feeling the distant ache of old pain. 

“sorry, I’m sorry. I…” He stutters out, not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for. 

“hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, kiddo. Should we go sit down? I can have Virgil watch the batter, he’s surprisingly good at pancakes.” He shakes his head. 

“it’s fine. I’ll just go sit with Roman. You don’t have to stop, you don’t have to inconvenience yourself.” Patton frowns, and he winces again, because now he’s screwed everything up. 

“it’s not an inconvenience, Remus. I promise. I can show you how to preen my feathers, if you want.” He wants that. They look fluffy and soft and he wants to run his hands through them, but the mere thought scares him. He’ll be too rough, no matter how careful he is, and he’ll hurt Patton, and then Patton will hate him, and Logan will be mad, and Virgil will send him back into that dreamscape hell, and he’ll mess everything up. “remus. You’re not gonna hurt me, ok? I know it.” He shakes his head, stepping back, that strange electricity back in his bones. 

“N-no. I’m fine, thanks. I’m… I’m gonna go try and get some s-sleep actually. That ok, Ro?” He asks, eyes pleading with his brother to say yes, to not ask, to let him go. Roman responds with a ‘we’re talking about this later’ look, but nods, and he lets out a sigh of relief, as he flees back to his room, closing the door and sliding down against it, burying his head in his hands, unwilling to move as he feels himself shaking, losing control of his muscles as he curls tighter. 

It’s so hard. Why is being safe so fucking hard?  
…

He wakes up to the smell of pancakes wafting through his door. He groans, running a hand over his face before he forces himself out of bed, slumping to the living room and flopping face down onto a chair. 

“Good morning, Janus.” He groans in response to Logan’s greeting, not awake enough to summon words. 

“Drama queen. I’m literally a being of darkness. How is it I deal with mornings better than you?” Virgil asks, amusement in his voice. 

“because mornings are cold.” He mumbles. 

“Actually, the ship runs at a steady temperature of seventy five degrees, which is an optimal temperature for all of our bodies to function at.” Logan answers. 

“Fiiine, then my body is biologically evolved to not fully wake until later in the morning when the sun would have warmed up the cold dessert, allowing for basking and removing the possibility of hypothermia, that Nagas are more susceptible to.” He answers, flipping himself over so he’s laying upside down in the chair, head resting against the floor, legs up the back. “That’s what I was told, anyway.” He grumbles under his breath, soft enough he’s certain no one else hears him, except maybe Roman, who glances at him with a startled look. 

Patton is in the kitchen, flipping pancakes, and Logan is sitting at the counter, flipping through his star atlas, no doubt reading up on distant galaxies and planets, adding his own notes and observations where applicable. Virgil is sipping a mug of coffee, and Roman is looking around at everyone, simply taking everything in, his gaze occasionally landing on the door at the end of the hall, a worried look on his face. 

“Where’s Remus?” He asks, as casually as he can, trying to get a read on the situation. Roman frowns, and Patton shoots him a glance as he flips the last of the pancakes onto a plate. 

“He said he went to get some rest. He hasn’t been sleeping.” Patton replies, in a way that lets Janus know Patton doesn’t fully believe Remus’s excuse, but didn’t want to push. 

“He’s never been good at sleeping. Even before. He went to a specialist, once, but they said he was too young to try any medication, and all the over the counter stuff either didn’t work or gave him nightmares. He used to keep a dream journal. That helped, until… well.” Roman doesn’t have to finish his sentence, they all know what he means. 

Before and After. That’s what life is divided into. Before he was taken, and the After of it all. Janus doesn’t have very much Before, but the brothers do, enough at least to properly mourn what they’d lost. Of course, he had more After than the two of them, though it hadn’t been as rough, as what they’d gone through. 

Still, he knows the fear, how the slightest, most unpredictable thing can send you right back to There, something that was fine one day sends you off the deep end the next, and he still has trouble sleeping, sometimes, though he’s too proud and standoffish, still, to ask for someone to stay. 

He still hasn’t found a word for After the After, for whatever this is, life cruising around on a spaceship with an oddball group of species, it hasn’t been long enough, to give this a name, to hope that it will last longer than the nearly eight years it has, he still can barely think past tomorrow. Still wakes up and forgets where he is, sometimes. 

“Alright. I’ll go bring him some food, see if he’s still up. He should probably eat something.” He gets to his feet, catching Roman’s grateful relief as he passes, and he squeezes his shoulder gently, before sweeping into the kitchen and grabbing a plate of pancakes, drizzling syrup on top, before ruffling the edge of Patton’s wing, ducking his attempt to catch him in a retaliatory hug as he darts around Logan, using him as a buffer. 

“Please do not include me in whatever game this is, I would prefer not to lose my place.” Logan says dryly, making Patton giggle. Janus doesn’t miss the slight twitch of Logan’s lips at the sound, and he grins too. 

“Virgil, make sure Logan doesn’t start anything on fire. You know how careless he likes to be around open flame.” He calls as he starts down the hall, Virgil snickering as Logan splutters indignantly about how he follows proper fire safety procedures, and the one time he makes a camp fire just happens to be when the winds rolled in and the camp went up in flames!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus speaks with Remus.

He knocks on the door softly, wincing at the startled yelp he hears from the other side, but he hears a ‘come in’ before he can apologize. He peeks open the door, and it takes him a moment to find Remus, who is sitting in the corner of the room, knees pulled to his chest, to the left of the door. 

“I brought you some pancakes.” He starts simply. “Would you like the door open, or closed if I intend on staying in here with you?” He asks, not missing Remus’s surprised consideration at the question. He knows well enough the importance of choices. 

“closed is fine.” Remus says after a moment, and he nods, closing the door softly. He slides the plate of pancakes across the floor to Remus, grabbing a spare blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders as he settles in the corner opposite Remus, idly looking around the room, careful not to make Remus feel stared at or watched. 

“They taste great, by the way. The pancakes. And I know Patton enjoyed the company.” He comments, noticing how Remus’s shoulders tense a bit, though he does take a bite of food, savoring the fluffiness and heavenly sweetness of syrup. In only a few minutes, the plate is slid back across the room to Janus, who sets it aside. 

“you didn’t need to come check on me.” Remus mumbles, and he hums for a moment, thinking.

“I didn’t. And I will leave if you want. Tell the others you’re just resting, and to leave you alone, if you like.” Remus considers for a moment, before shaking his head, resting it atop his knees. He relaxes back against the wall, stretching out his legs and looking up at the ceiling, letting Remus set the pace.

“I was excited. And I yelled. And I asked for something.” Janus tilts his head to show he’s listening, but still doesn’t look away from the ceiling, knowing the weight of a gaze is not welcome. 

“you did. And while it did startle everyone, it made all of us happy, to see you happy about something.” He replies evenly. 

“I’m not allowed to be loud. It gets me in trouble. Which really means it gets Roman in trouble. It means… it means he gets hurt. I know… I know it’s not like that anymore, but… but I still expect it, I can’t… I can’t not.” He lets out a low breath, nodding, finally tilting his head so he’s looking at Remus. 

“I know. I was younger, and alone, but I can imagine, if they’d stolen one of my nest mates along with me, how hard I would cling to them as my life line, how hard I would fight to keep them safe. I learned obedience quickly, with the help of their tools” he spits the word, “though pain was unavoidable.” He can still feel the needle sharp jolts of pain over every inch of what was once scales, his flesh torn and raw and red, each one meticulously plucked from his skin for some fine lady’s jewelry or a rich man’s fancy cape, the type of pain that didn’t even hurt after a day, just made his stomach roil and his balance lopsided, ill and feverish and weak from it. 

“I suppose they took better care of me than they did you. I wasn’t a lab rat, and they couldn’t afford to lose me. They fed me well so my scales would stay shining and bright, would always tend to my injuries carefully so they would grow back in well after every pluck. Lots of IV’s, to keep me hydrated and get nutrients in me.” 

“how often?” 

“Once every month, month and a half. I was eight, when they grabbed me. I was 21 when they got me out.” Remus lets out a low whistle at that, the silence lingering for a moment, and he can feel Remus studying him, debating something in the silence. 

“how… did you stop? Forgetting where you are, I mean. Or… knowing where you are and just… not being able to believe it?” He sighs, letting his eyes meet Remus’s, a small, bitter smile on his lips. 

“you don’t, really. I’m still expecting something to go to hell, and somedays I can’t leave my room, convinced for some reason that if I walk out I’ll see the hospital white halls. Some nights I still wake up, thrashing and screaming, and some nights I don’t sleep at all, and some days I cannot stand to have anyone touch me. It comes and it goes. It just… comes less and stays for shorter amounts of time, the longer I’m here with people I trust.” 

“that fucking sucks.” Remus mumbles softly, picking at his shirt. He shrugs. 

“yeah. But it’s still better than the real thing. And everyone knows to respect whatever boundaries I lay down, no matter how often they shift and change from day to day. You won’t get in trouble for allowing someone the privilege of touching you one day, then saying no touch the next. Or allowing one person touch, but denying another. I know me saying it doesn’t just magically let you believe it, but they’ll show it to you, over time. Because every time you say something, or ask for something, or get loud and excited, and expect that punishment? It won’t come. Until you start to believe them when they say it won’t ever.” 

Remus meets his eyes again, for longer this time, once again on the brink of saying something, but unsure if he can cross that precipice. He knows that feeling, hell, he probably knows all the exact things going through Remus’s mind right now, because they’ve sped through his own a thousand times. 

“so if… if I wanted touch now… you wouldn’t just pat me on the back or something later, when… when I’m not expecting it?” Remus finally asks, though he can tell it’s a precursor to what he really wants. Still, he’ll never push. He just nods. 

“Yes. And if you did want touch it would also be ok if you only wanted a specific kind of touch. Hand holding, arm around the shoulders, full on cuddling, that kind of thing. It is always open and up to you to decide what you are and are not ok with. You can always ask for more. Likewise, you can always ask for less, if you decide something is too much.” He answers, trying to keep his voice soft and purely informational, trying to make this easier. 

He's surprised when Remus nods decisively once, takes a deep breath, then scoots across the floor to him, carefully settling against him so that their sides are touching. Somehow he expected to be the one to go to Remus, not the other way around. He’s almost afraid to move, afraid to scare Remus away. 

“have… have you ever gone back? To your home planet?” 

“Once. Just to see. It was strange, being there. It felt right but… empty. So much of who you are as a Naga is built on what nest you’re from, what family in that nest you belong to, and I don’t have any of that. I was an outsider in my own home. It… hurt, but I think I needed it to. I had already planned on staying aboard, I just had to make sure.” Remus nods. 

“I miss home. I wonder what movies have come out, what my friends grew up to be, what my parents are doing now. If they stayed together or got divorced, or maybe had more kids, or maybe adopted. I could see that. They always wanted to foster. But we can’t even check, can we? That’s not the rules for Earth.” 

“no. they aren’t.” He replies. Earth is just starting to open up to aliens, just starting its space exploration, just a baby in the grand scheme of space, and thus heavily regulated, both by the planet itself and other universal aid to keep other planets from interfering in Earth’s development. No, returning home for the brothers is impossible, at least for the foreseeable future. 

Remus rests his head on his shoulder with a sigh, and he is once again terrified to move, to scare the skittish human away. 

“Logan said we’ll be touching down somewhere in a few days. I’m going to lose it as soon I step outside, I know it. I’m trying to brace myself already, trying to remember what real sun feels like, what wind or grass or trees even look like, what solid ground feels like, and I can’t. How pathetic is that? Ten years of my life, I spent outside every second I could, and now I can barely remember what outside is.” 

“Lose it, then. Scream and cry and pound the ground and punch a tree and laugh while sobbing like a maniac. It’ll make you feel better, extremely satisfying, really.” He replies, remembering his first time off ship. He’d just sat on the ground in the sun, just crying. Just endlessly crying. Remus lets out a small snort, gently bumping his shoulder against him.

“I’m sure that would go over well with the locals. ‘Oh that? That’s just the human, losing his shit, don’t worry, he probably won’t break your shit or kill any of you, though he is half feral.’ I’m sure that would put their minds right at ease.” He simply shrugs again. 

“Fuck ‘em. I can move faster than nearly any other species, and I’ll bite whoever wants to even think of trying something. It’s a small planet, yes, but a common way fair point for smaller ships like ours. Smuggling isn’t uncommon in the galaxies, Remus, and they’ve seen their fair share of refugees. We wouldn’t be taking you somewhere you wouldn’t be safe.” He softens, feeling Remus sigh. 

“I… know. That’s what’s hardest. Is knowing that I somehow trust all of you because it terrifies me, all the extra ways I could hurt cause of it. All the different ways any… any of you could hurt me.” He doesn’t say anything to that. There’s nothing he can say, that will ease Remus’s mind. Only time can do that, as painful as it is to see that doubt creep in, he knows it can’t be vanquished so easily. “could… could you… hold me?” Remus asks, voice small, and instantly he shifts, allowing Remus to slip onto his lap, wrapping the blanket around them both, one hand resting on Remus’s waist, the other gently stroking up and down his back. 

“Is this alright?” He murmurs softly, and Remus lets out a small, content hum, eyes drifting closed where his head rests against his chest. He smiles smally, humming softly, that lilting lullaby from his memories, watching Remus’s face finally relax as he fell fully asleep. 

Of course, now he couldn’t move, stuck as he was with a human on his lap, not that he minded, really. It felt… nice, having someone curled against him, his own temperature rising to cozily warm as Remus’s supplied extra to compensate for his colder body temp, it felt… natural. 

This is how Naga were supposed to sleep. Curled up together, piled on top of each other, tangled around each other, and it had been a long, long time since he let anyone hold him, not even Patton, despite his intrinsic need for touch. He avoided it like the plague most of the time, because he couldn’t stand to have a taste of it, only to lose it again. 

But now, Remus is curled in his lap, and his senses are on fire, and he feels warm, and whole, and full, in an aching, needy sort of way, and he knows that plan is out the window, hurtling into the dark abyss of space, because this is absolutely pure bliss, and he finds himself snuggling closer to Remus, resting his head in Remus’s hair with a soft sigh.

Yes. Remus reminds him far, far too much of himself, for either of their own goods.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ship lands.   
> Things go fine.   
> Until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choo choo goes the angst train.

The two days passes quickly. Remus takes to following Logan around, constantly asking questions, about everything and anything, from how to use the star maps to navigate, to the engineering of the ship itself, to anything that pops into his mind. Logan is all too willing to answer his questions, happy to lecture to someone who is excited to listen and learn, though Remus often interrupts in the middle of an explanation to ask another question, much to Logan’s annoyance. Still, he was simply happy Remus seemed to be adjusting well. He flinched less at sudden movements, occasionally initiated touch, occasionally quietly asked for some, which everyone was all too happy to give, no matter whom Remus asked. Usually, it was Janus, much to everyone’s surprise, and Patton’s slight disappointment. Though he was simply happy that Janus seemed to be reaching back, finally starting to let himself get attached and heal in a way he hadn’t seen from the naga. 

Roman, when not following Remus, liked to sit in the living area, reading, endlessly reading. Patton had dug into his art supplies, and found an unused sketchbook and pack of colored pencils, Roman literally bursting into tears when he gave them to him. Roman had hugged them to his chest as if they were the most precious things in the world, letting Patton wrap him in a hug, cooing softly as the kid cried himself out. He hadn’t let the sketchbook out of his sight since, carrying it everywhere like a child with their teddy bear, an almost desperate, breaking joy in simply owning something, having something private to call his. It broke his heart a little, how something so small that he took for granted could shatter Roman’s world so entirely. 

They were still skittish and quiet. They both still had moments of fear, moments of panic, they both still weren’t getting enough sleep, nightmares waking them, they both still clung to each other every moment they could, terrified to let each other out of their sights, afraid if they did, they would vanish. It was slow, and it wasn’t much, but it was progress, and it was there. They at least believed fully now in their own safety, knew that no one on board would ever hurt them, and were starting to reach out, just a bit, for help when it was all too much. It was amazing, really, how far just a little kindness went in earning trust.

…  
“Are you ready?” Roman asks, softly, a bit breathless, squeezing Remus’s hand tightly, nervousness pounding in his chest, clogging his throat. 

“No. Not even a little bit. Like, not at all.” He replies, trying to take a deep breath as he felt the ship shudder, touching down on land. Solid land. Actual land. Like, a planet. 

“Kiddos? You ok?” Patton asks, coming into the room from the hall, a small satchel slung over his shoulders, instantly taking in the tenseness of the two boys. “Logan’ll be out any moment, then we can head out!” 

“what if something goes wrong? What… what if we get separated? There’s crowds and people and-“ 

“And I meant it when I said I would sink my fangs into anyone who wants to try something. I’ll be your chaperone for the day, pleasure to be at your service.” Janus interrupted, giving a flourishing bow and a small smirk, not missing how Remus’s shoulders untensed.

“Indeed. Everything is locked down, and we may disembark whenever we like.” Logan states, coming down the hall from the control room, glancing over everyone once. 

“ok. Ok let’s do this.” Remus breaths, pulling Roman to his feet, following the others to the airlock. Logan types something into a panel on the side of the room, and it whirs to life, bay doors opening, a ramp descending to the ground, and Remus has to shield his eyes with his hand, because it’s so bright. 

He can feel Janus behind him, ready to reach out a hand to steady him, if he asks, not saying anything, patient, and he appreciates it. After a moment, his eyes adjust, and he feels the barest of breezes, and it takes everything in him not to sprint for the door and run as far and fast as he can. Instead, he slowly walks forward, down the ramp, Roman beside him, trembling, and he squeezes his brother’s hand tighter as they see the outside world. 

It’s a landing strip, but a small one, their ship seems to be one of only four others docked. There’s a building behind them, some kind of communication building for incoming ships, no doubt, and beyond that are houses that look to be made of some kind of stone. They can hear the shouts and sounds of the town, of a market, of life. 

But before them stretches an endless plain of knee high grass, that waves in the wind, a sweet, soft scent to it, no doubt blooming wildflowers or plants of some kind, and a sun is shining down, warm and soft and light, and Remus can’t help it as his legs give out from under him and he curls into the grass, feeling it tickle against his skin, breathing in the scent of wet earth, feeling it between his fingers, unable to stop the tremors that tear through him as a gasping sob escapes his lips. 

For the first time since they were stolen, he believes in his freedom. He feels Roman beside him, and pulls him close, clinging to him just as tight as Roman is now clinging to him, because they can’t believe this, their minds can’t process this, they have lost the capacity to understand this vast open space, this soft summer wind, this swaying of prairie grasses, they can’t do anything other than try and breathe, try and take it all in, try and imprint this in their minds forever, because some part of Remus still fears this is some absurd trap, and he will be ripped out of this absolute paradise any moment. He can’t go back to it, now, he can’t go back to a cell, after this.

“You won’t. I won’t ever let that happen, I will fight anything that tries to put you in another cage.” Janus murmurs, and without hesitation, Remus reaches out, taking his hand without looking, just needing something, anything, to keep him tethered to this moment, otherwise he’ll slip back into a different one.

It feels like hours later, when they finally untangle from each other, getting to their feet, though Remus is unable to tear his eyes away from the horizon, can barely stop himself from looking straight into the sun, just to prove to himself it’s really there, closing his eyes and letting his senses be overrun by the normalcy of it all. 

With his eyes closed, he could be anywhere. He could be home, chasing butterflies with Roman. They could be tussling in the field behind their house. They could be on one of their camping trips, they could be playing kickball during recess, they could be searching for fireflies and scouring the sky for shooting stars, crickets chirping softly in the distance as they made their own constellations and tales. 

It’s insane. The feeling of that gentle warmth against his skin, wind in his hair, against his face, grass against his legs, it’s utterly insane, and he can’t stop the tears from dripping down his face as he takes another shuddering breath in, and opens his eyes. Janus is standing two steps away, watching them carefully, though he’s giving them space, and something a bit sad is in his eyes. 

He remembers abruptly that Janus has been through this. He knows exactly what they’re going through, he must remember the day he stepped off that ship for the first time, must remember the overwhelming urge to just run as fast and far as he could, he must be lost in his own thoughts and memories. 

“you ok?” He asks softly, breaking Janus out of his reverie. The naga gives him a small, exasperated smile, tilting his head. 

“Last I checked, I was supposed to be asking you that question.” He narrows his eyes, about to point out that Janus had deflected instead of actually answering, but stops himself. If he doesn’t want to talk about, he won’t pry. Not about this. “We can go catch up with the others, if you like. It’s a fairly small settlement, but it is a bit of a stop over for out of the way travelers, so the market is fairly robust. I understand if that many people would be too overwhelming.” 

“No. I wanna… I would like to go. Just for a bit, anyway, I want…” I want to see that this is real, that it’s not just a dream, I want to touch things and hear languages and see other beings, is what Roman was going to say, he knows. Because he’s thinking it too, he’s endlessly curious, he wants to make the most of this time off the ship, he just wants to sit in the middle of ordinary, every day, hustle and bustle. 

“Alright. Stick close, and if you feel overwhelmed, tell me and I’ll find us somewhere quiet.” They both nod, following Janus past the building and into the town, into the market.   
…  
“Do you think they’d like this?” Patton asks, holding up a woven wall hanging, depicting a dragon sitting atop a shining castle. Logan sighs, looking at it. 

“I don’t know, Patton. You should simply ask them.” He’s slightly exasperated, this is about the twentieth thing Patton has asked him about, instead of asking the people he’s actually trying to buy for. Patton frowns, his gaze flicking farther down the market, where he can just pick out Janus’s shining scales as the siblings meander at their own pace, eyes wide, Janus making sure that everyone gives them space. 

“I would, Lo, but…” Patton sighs, refolding the tapestry and placing it back on the table. “But I think if I just ask them they’ll say no, because they don’t want to be a bother and spend our money. They don’t think they deserve things, Logan, and I don’t want to stress them out more by pressing them into making choices.” 

“You’re probably right, Patton. But if that is the case, you should start small. Too many gifts at once will be overwhelming. And no matter how you approach it, they are going to feel the need to somehow repay you. Perhaps we’ll pick up the essential supplies now, reconvene for lunch, and ask Janus what they seemed interested in, or kept returning to. That way they would have some input on what you did end up buying for them.” Patton’s wings fluff up as he smiles, gently bumping Logan. 

“You’re a genius. That may be the smartest idea I have ever heard!” He’s about to respond when he feels a draft, and suddenly Virgil materializes beside them, pulling them into an alley between two stalls. 

“Virgil. Is everything ok?” Logan asks, the wraith looking towards the mouth of the alley with a frown. 

“I don’t know. There’s someone following them. I haven’t been able to get a good look, they’re covered in a cloak and face mask, but whoever it is picked up on them once they entered the market.” Virgil’s form wavers, before he takes a deep breath and solidifies. 

“Have they shown any signs of aggression?” Logan asks, dark eyes narrowed. 

“No. Not yet, but I don’t like them, Lo, they’re not good, I can feel it.” 

“Ok. We’ll-“ Patton was cut off by the sound of shouting, and with a curse, Virgil lost form, swirling shifting shadow, zooming out of the alley, Logan and Patton barely two steps behind.   
…  
It happened so fast. 

One moment, they were lounging by the fountain, simply taking everything in, listening to the chatter of unknown languages, different species and races and cultures clashing in a symphony. 

The next Remus is growling, shoving Janus backwards, pouncing atop a stranger, a syringe flying from the being’s grasp, who has the air knocked out of him for a moment, before another arm emerges from under the cloak and stabs him in the leg with something. He can feel his vision hazing, his pulse racing, but he’s a human, and this alien clearly doesn’t understand what that means, because he expects him to go down easy. 

That’s a good joke. 

Instead he fights back, pins him down, bares his teeth, ready to rip out his throat, but he hears a noise behind him. He leaps to his feet, lunging back, shoving Roman and Janus behind him as another attacker appears out of the now fleeing, panicked, crowd, hissing as a dart finds its mark. He charges, tripping over his feet to do so, but it seems enough to scare off the second cloaked figure, who’s eyes widen behind his face covering, fleeing. He spins and sees the one he’d tackled scrambling away, vanishing into the crowd, and he hisses, lashing out at a touch of his shoulder. 

He’s in the cell. 

They’ve come for Roman, for the first time in weeks, they’ve come for Roman, and that isn’t good, isn’t right, and he won’t let it happen. 

He ignores the sedatives they stab into his him, ignores the stun batons spasaming his muscles, he screams and claws and punches and bites, becoming the feral beast they’ve always thought him to be, but eventually they manage to twist his arm back and pin it behind him, his legs finally going weak from the drugs, as they drag Roman away, his little brother still managing to smile at him, and he knows, knows, he is saying goodbye. 

He won’t let them. He won’t let them take him.  
…  
“Remus.” Janus staggers back as Remus hisses, lashes out, sends him reeling backwards, cheek pounding in pain where Remus had hit him. Roman catches him, steadying him. 

“Jan!” Patton is at his side suddenly, gently removing his hand from his face, inhaling sharply at the bruise no doubt swelling his face. 

“I’m fine, Pat. It’ll heal.” He looks past Patton, to Remus, who’s eyes are clouded, body tensed and stiff, ready to fight, teeth bared in a feral grimace, chest rapidly rising and falling. “they were going after me. He shoved me out of the way.” Janus murmurs, trying to take a step towards Remus, but Patton stops him.   
…  
“Remus.” He hisses at that voice, it sounds like the scientist, it triggers his fight reflex, and he snarls, his vision flickering. One moment it’s dirt paths, blue sky, the next it’s harsh white, cold metal. It’s too much, it’s too muddled, and he can’t see, can’t think, he only knows it isn’t safe, and the world is lurching, spinning, and he won’t stop, because they will not take Roman. “Remus. Listen to me. None of us are going to hurt you. Do you recognize me?” 

His vision flickers. Dark eyes, crystal skin, tall and thin, familiar. Then it’s a full body suit, a mask, empty, biting voice, and he stumbles back, tripping against something, and he sinks to the ground, unable to stay upright anymore. 

He flinches back at touch, his vision coming in strobing flashes of moments. Logan, kneeling before him, saying something, eyes dilated and worried. The Scientist, grabbing his arms, pinning him down. Janus, face bruised and red, a pang of guilt because he knows he caused that, somehow. The guards, dragging him away. The campsite, a dart in his neck, crawling to Roman. That same dizzying feeling filling him now, and his panic spikes. 

He cries out, unintellegable, fear stricken, as his vision goes dark, then there’s a cold hand in his, and the fear vanishes, leaving him silent and content and empty, as he passes out.  
…  
Virgil inhales sharply through his teeth, struggling to keep his form intact, with the strong wash of fear and pain and panic and negativity filling him, that he’d taken from Remus, who was now peaceably passed out in Logan’s arms. 

Patton’s hand on his shoulder helps ground him, and with several deep breaths, he manages to push the tide back, exhale it out with every breath, until he’s solid once more. 

“-probably fine. We just need to get back to the ship and see what exactly they injected him with. It most likely was simply meant to incapacitate him, and should be able to be slept off.” He catches, Roman nearly in tears himself, feeling him on the edge of a panic attack. 

“Hey. He’ll be ok.” He manages, and Roman nods shakily. 

“ok. I… I trust you.” Roman replies shakily, letting Patton pull him into a hug, as Janus and Virgil take lookout, escorting them back to the ship.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Remus recover from the attack in the market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for the fluff (and a touch of angst, as always)

He’s hazy. 

Everything feels too slow, except his pulse is too fast, he can feel it fluttering in his chest, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that he knows, he knows this feeling, this is how he always feels afterwards, the sedatives still running through him, but he’s still numb enough he can’t feel whatever they’ve done, though that won’t last long, now, not if he’s getting awareness back. 

It must have been bad, if they decided to knock him out completely, he had an incredible tolerance for pain at this point, they haven’t put him fully under in years. 

He remembers the ship. Aliens. Patton, Logan, Virgil, Janus. 

But if he’s like this… 

He’d been right. He’d been right, it was all a lie. 

They were probably moving him out of the nice alien simulation area back into the cell, the cold, empty, icy cell, and he lets out a pathetic whimper, because he’d thought, he’d thought, he’d thought…

But of course. Of course, it was a lie, a ruse, and he’d always been just stupid enough to fall for them. 

But he doesn’t hear Roman, anywhere, doesn’t feel him nearby, which is good. It means they really meant it, so early on, when they promised Roman could stay. 

“Remus. Can you hear me?” Janus’s voice, and he winces, wishing it was anyone else, because he’d actually started not only trusting Janus, but liking being around him, feeling safe around him, and he doesn’t want to hear the explanation from him. 

“please. Just go.” He mumbles, voice rasping. His throat is dry and burning, acid in his throat, and he barely manages even that much. “S fine. I get it. Gotta hand it to ya, you’re all incredible actors.” He hears a sharp inhale, then the bed shifts, and he feels a hand against his head, stroking his hair. He pulls away, tears slipping down his face. “don’t. if you’re gonna take this away, don’t be so nice about it.” 

“Oh, darling. No one’s taking anything away. No one’s going anywhere. Do you remember, what happened?” 

He furrows his brow, managing to crack open his eyes, vision blurry as he looks up at Janus. 

“O-outside. S-something…” It rushes back to him, and he jolts upright, vision clearing, though his head spins. “I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry…” He trails off, falling into Janus’s open arms, somewhat surprising the naga, but he recovers quickly, cradling his head tight against him with one hand, the other supporting his back, Janus tucking his head over Remus’s shoulder, shushing softly. “I d-didn’t mean to, I d-didn’t… I’m sorry-“ 

“for what, darling? You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“I h-hit you, I almost at-acked Logan, I d-didn’t know wh-ere I was, I-“ 

“Remus. You protected us. You protected me. No one is mad. No one is hurt. Everyone is safe. I promise.” He feels Remus shaking against him, feels a wet spot growing against his shirt, and he holds Remus a little tighter. “you’re not back there. You got drugged, by the assailants, whom ran off in the face of a terrifyingly pissed off human.” He hears a little gasp of laughter from Remus, and smiles, pushing back his hair. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I was supposed to keep you safe, and instead you got hurt for my sake. Thank you, Remus.” He whispers, a bit surprised Remus hasn’t pulled away, is clinging this tightly to him. 

“Roman’s okay?”

“Worried out of his mind, but otherwise unscathed. We wanted to let you wake up on your own, without all of us hovering. Figured that would only scare you more.” 

“Probably a good choice. I… it got so muddled, it… what was it?” 

“I don’t remember the name. Sedatives strong enough it would have wiped any of the rest of us out for days, left us completely weak and defenseless. The local authorities have tracked them down, a small smugglers ring. Saw our group, thought we were easy targets, didn’t realize you two were humans, since they’re so rare out in the galaxies. They’re being dealt with appropriately and severely. Like we said, this planet is a frequent stop for refugees. The people here don’t take kindly to anyone threatening that.” Remus finally pulls back slightly, knees to his chest. 

“Will we ever just… be safe? Every time I get used to a routine, something happens, something bad. Routines are safe. I know what to expect, I know what’s going to happen when, there’s no anticipation or fear, because I know. Even… even before this, I knew the routine, knew that if I was quiet and good, they’d leave Roman alone. Knew that one day would be mind tests, the next would be physical experimentation, the next would be pain resistence, the next would be chemicals, I could prepare for the pain and the crash and the fall. I… what happens? What happens if this happens again? If I can’t pull back the little that I did? If something sets me off and I snap and forget and hurt all of you? What if I kill-“ He breaks off with a poorly stifled sob, and Janus rests a hand on his knee. 

“you won’t. You’re not a monster, Remus. You’re smart and brave and resilient. And you are part of our family now, you and Roman both. And we will fight for you, just as hard as you fought every day for Roman, just as hard as you fought those smugglers for me, we will fight for you, Remus. And we won’t ever, ever give up on you.” Then Remus is back in his arms, shaking with tears, and Janus finds it impossible to hold back his own. “I promise.”   
…  
He’s laying outside on the grass, just off the ramp that leads into the ship. The grass tickles his arms, his legs, the smell of it heady and sweet, and he closes his eyes, just breathing in a deep, huge breath. 

The sun is just starting to set, though instead of fiery oranges and pinks, the sky here is turning a deep violet and electric pink. Kinda neat, even though it does pull at his heart. He opens his eyes with a low sigh, staring up at the slowly emerging stars, the unfamiliar constellations, planets, moons. How far are they, he wonders, from Earth? He supposes Logan would know, but he’s almost afraid to ask. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“Roman? You doing ok, kiddo?” Patton asks, sitting down on the ground near him, and he takes another deep breath in and out. “you’re crying.” Patton says, softer, and he rubs his eyes surprised as they come away wet. He hadn’t noticed. 

“I… don’t know. Just… look at this, Patton. It’s so huge. And we’re just…just carried along by its tide. Just lost in the oceans of darkness. I keep looking, for the North Star. It’s the guiding light, on Earth, it doesn’t move, points steadily North. The bottom of the Big Dipper. Or was it the Little Dipper? No, it musta been big dipper, that’s the one the slaves would use, when they escaped the south, to lead them to freedom. They had songs and stories and legends. They looked up at the sky, and had hope, looking up, that beacon leading them onwards. I’ve never had a North Star. And I keep… I keep looking for one, Patton, but I can’t find it. There’s nothing familiar or same or… I don’t know… I don’t know!” He cries, resting an arm across his forehead. “there’s so much out there. And I never thought I would ever have the chance to see any of it. We were going to die, there. We both knew it. Knew sooner or later, either on purpose or on accident, they’d do something irreparable and one of us would die. And one of us dying was just the same as both of us. But we didn’t. In the endless, vast, hugeness, somehow, we didn’t. What are the chances, of that? What are the chances, of you finding us, instead of some other humans, of finding anything at all? What… did we do, to deserve to be found? What do we even do, now? How…” he breaks off, pressing his palms against his eyes for a long moment, before tugging his hands through his hair, finally tilting his head to look at Patton. “how do we go on, without any North Star?” 

“Kiddo…” Patton exhales, reaching out his hand, leaving it palm up on the grass, an invitation, rewarded as, after a moment, Roman reaches out, placing a palm atop his, not pulling away as Patton slowly intertwines their fingers. “you didn’t have to do anything, to deserve to be found. Because you never deserved to be taken. You never, never, deserved to be hurt or terrorized in the ways that you were. You’re right, the chances of our efforts leading us to you, in the entire universe, are so, so, small. But we found you, we found you, Roman, it doesn’t matter how or why, it just matters that we did, because you and Remus deserve so much better, you deserve the universe, Roman, and I would give it to you, if I could, I would give you the cosmos. I know, it’s overwhelming, having freedoms, having choices, having the galaxies open to you, to do anything you want, I know it feels like there’s too much, and you’re drowning in choices you don’t know how to make, you don’t feel safe making, because every choice before this was a test, made for you, to hurt you. I know it’s scary. Especially after what happened today, it’s scary. But you have us, to lean on. To help you, to support you, to just… be there. And I need you to know, if you did… if someone did take you, again, if somehow something went wrong, we would never, never stop searching for you, we would never give up on finding you, until you were safe with us again. You’re part of our family, Ro. I would do anything for you. I love you.” He says softly, worrying he’s gone overboard, as he looks at Roman’s slightly stricken face. 

Then Roman moves faster than his eyes can process, throwing his arms around his neck, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. His wings flutter in surprise, then he’s wrapping his arms around Roman, his wings, blocking out the rest of the world, cradling him in soft warmth and safety, radiating out peace and love and warmth as he rubs his back, shushing him gently. “It’s ok, baby. It’ll be ok. I’ve got you.” He murmurs, feeling Roman shaking against him. 

“th-thank you, g-god, Pat, th-thank you, y-y-you’re so good, y-ou’re so… thank you.” 

“Of course, kiddo. Of course. I love you, you’re so good, too, Roman, you just have to let yourself believe it, let yourself see it. I can’t wait to see it, Roman, to see you and Remus start to believe in yourselves again, it’s going to be so beautiful.” 

They sit like that for a long time, until the stars come out, until the sun fully sets, until Patton almost thinks Roman must have fallen asleep, his breath coming in deep and steady, his heart a steady pace against his chest, Roman relaxed and melted against him, as he strokes his back, teases through his hair, he’s never seen Roman this calm, not even in sleep. So he’s surprised when Roman shifts, eyes peeking up at him, at the stars in the sky. 

“I suppose we should head inside.” Patton keeps teasing through his hair, smiling softly as Roman leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. 

“We can stay out, if you want. It won’t get too cold out here, and I stay plenty warm, no matter the weather.” Roman nods, settling back against him, letting out a huge yawn, taking in a deep breath. 

“M’kay. If you’re sure, Pat.” He murmurs, snuggling tighter against him. he chuckles, pulling his wings in tighter around the sleepy human. 

“I am, baby.” 

“Pat?” 

“yes, sweetie?” He answers, tucking his hair back. 

“love you.” He nearly cries, but manages to stifle it, not willing to risk waking Roman, who desperately needs the sleep, they both do, to heal properly. So he brushes a gentle kiss across his forehead, smile huge and eyes wet, as he watches Roman sleep soundly in his arms. 

“I do too, kiddo. So, so much.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus and Virgil have their own breakdowns, after the day's events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, lots of angst, followed by more fluff.  
> Also, this story is at exactly 30,000 words, which is extremely satisfying, to have such an exact number for some reason.

He looks up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the ramp, only half surprised to see Virgil, who wraps a blanket around his shoulders, before sitting down beside him with his own, head deep in his hood, dark eyes shining as he looks up at the stars. 

“How is he?” Comes the soft question. Patton looks up at the stars as well, a soft breath escaping his lips. 

“Lost. It must be terrifying, to go from having no choices, no power to make your own decisions, to having complete control over your life. He doesn’t know how to use that, anymore. Doesn’t know what to do with it all, what to do with himself.” Virgil huffs, arms wrapping around his knees. 

“Yeah. I was… a bit like that. When I first joined up with you. It seems silly, now, that I was ever scared of you, Pat, but I was. I was terrified, what would happen, when you found me.”   
…  
He hadn’t been invited on board. Patton and Logan hadn’t even known he was on board. They’d had a brief stopover, to refuel, on his home planet, spent barely twenty minutes there, total, at the small waystation, not many people enjoyed spending time near the presence of wraiths. 

Virgil himself included. 

He doesn’t know, still doesn’t know, how he found the courage to sneak aboard, when no one was looking, it wasn’t all that hard, he just slipped into the shadows and slipped into the hold, trying desperately to contain his fear so it wouldn’t spiral out and affect anyone else, so it wouldn’t seep through to them, so they wouldn’t notice anything amiss. 

He hated the planet, after all. Hated the cold cruelty of the place, the eerie darkness, the icy fear always trickling down his spine. They fed off negativity, off fear, and there was no one easier to scare and frighten and torment than him. No one to protect him, from the others. No one to stay for. He saw a way out, and he took it, intending to simply slip off at the next stop, whatever that was, and find a way for himself, maybe beg, do simple chores for pay, do something. He hadn’t intended to be found. 

He’d been hiding out for maybe a week, in the storage hold. He was cold and hungry and tired, huddled in the corner, behind some crates, curled around himself, shaking. He’d felt fuzzy and strange, and realized that was probably due to the whole not eating thing, but he couldn’t find the bravery to go scope out, to scrounge for food, he just had to hope they’d set down soon. 

An arm on his shoulder had woken him. He’d screamed, hoarse and cracked, woken out of his light, fitful sleep, warm hands on him, and he was afraid, waiting to be thrown into a nightmare, into whatever hell world they’d chosen this time, curling tighter, arms coming up to cover his head in the meager defense he could provide for himself.

“please… please don’t… please… s-sorry, s-sorry…” 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. You’re burning up, when was the last time you ate anything?” He’d shrugged, scared out of his mind, breath speeding, because he was caught, he’d been caught, and what were they going to do with him? 

“dunno. L-last st-op. Imma… wraith.” He mumbled, waiting for the fear, the derision, the pain. 

“Oh, baby. Can we get you upstairs?” 

“What… what’re y-ou gonna do, w-ith m-me?” 

“Get some food in you, to start, and some water. Then get you all cozy on the couch, with plenty of blankets and pillows, something to bring down that fever of yours.” 

“Y-you’re not m-m-mad?” 

“Of course not. You were scared enough to stow away, to leave your own planet behind and hide out in a ship you had no idea how friendly or cruel the occupants of it were. I think that speaks for itself, kiddo. I’m not mad. I just wanna help, ok?” Patton had asked, and he’d hesitated for a long moment, before nodding. 

“O-ok.” He’d realized his teeth were chattering, flinching as he felt arms around him, lifting him gently, as he passed out.

It had taken him a long, long time, to open up to any of them, to say anything without prompting, really, he was quiet and meek and half shadows, most of the time, unable to keep his form physical with the endless fear creeping through him. No one was allowed to touch him. Not even Patton. Any sudden movement sent him tearing from the room, and he spent most of his own time locked in his own, still convinced that they would send him back, jettison him off, kick him off at the next planet and never look back.

It was Logan, oddly enough, that wore him down. He always said what he thought, always pointed out the obvious, always answers with the truth, no matter how hurtful or blunt it is. That pure… obliviousness… to the concept of deception, was what finally convinced him, that they truly did want to help, wanted to let him have his space, wanted to just… be there. 

He’d never had kindness before. He didn’t understand, kindness. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice to him, when he hadn’t done anything besides flinch and hide and recoil from their touches, their gazes, their attentions.

That’s what had led to him sitting on the middle of his bed, huddled in his blankets, shaking as he sobbed, not looking up at the soft knock on his door, letting out something that might have been a strangled ‘come in’. For once, he didn’t flinch away, as Patton entered the room, as he sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with soft concern and warm care, and he just… broke. He fell into Patton’s arms and just broke.   
…  
He comes out of his own thoughts at Patton slipping a hand into his, and he smiles wryly up at the moon, shaking his head.

“sorry. Just…” He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself. 

“I know, Vee. They’ve come so far, already. And you… I’m so proud of you, Virgil. I really, really am.” He looks away, face red, hiding the small smile in the blanket around his head, smile growing as Patton rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him. 

“Pat, you’re making it really hard for me to nostalgically mope.” He mutters, Patton laughing softly against him. 

“Good.” Patton says, wings uncurling and stretching out behind him as he yawns. 

“Should you head in, Pat?” He asks, amusement coloring his tone, as Patton shakes his head. 

“Roman wanted to stay outside. I wanna let him get as much fresh air as possible. aThey’ve been… confined, for too long, Virg. They’ve been through so much, I just wanna let him have whatever he needs.” Virgil smiles fondly, laying his blanket on the ground behind Patton. 

“Alright. Lay down.” He orders, gently pushing Patton’s shoulder, who goes over with little resistence, a little giggle, stretching one wing out, resting Roman atop it, curling his other wing over him as he lays down, holding him close, Roman’s hands gently curling into his feathers, nuzzling against them, snuggling into the softness. He smiles as Virgil tucks the other blanket tight around them, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head softly. 

“I’ll keep watch, Pat. Sweet dreams.” In the blink of an eye, Virgil vanishes into the shadows, though Patton knows he hasn’t gone far. 

“G’night, Virg. Love you.” He mumbles, already slipping asleep as the cozy warmth seeps into his bones.   
…   
He wakes up screaming. For the first time in a little over three years, he wakes up screaming, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the sound, choking on it, praying no one else has heard him, he doesn’t want to bother them, and he buries his head in his hands, trying to get a grip, because it wasn’t real, he knows it wasn’t real.

The white hospital bed. Firm, cold shackles against his upper arms and wrists, holding them tight to the armrests of the chair. An IV in his arm, pumping him full of vitamins and minerals and a mild sedative, something to keep him still against the sharp stings of pain as they carefully peel off every scale. He watches in quiet, morbid, fascination, as his arms turn from gold to crimson, as he starts to shiver, even the heating light they have on above him not enough to keep him warm, against the blood loss.

It’s still another hour before he’s hazing in and out of awareness, another half hour before they call a stop, binding his injuries with curt, steady motions, guiding him back to his small room, nothing more than white walls, floors, ceiling, a hard bed, a warm blanket, it must be night, because the uv rays are off, as they emotionlessly deposit him on the bed, as always, locking the door behind them without a word. 

Tomorrow they’ll take more scales, until he doesn’t have any left. He'll be sick and shaking and unable to keep any food down, they'll hook him to more IVs to keep him alive, until his scales start to regrow and just when he’s starting to feel alright again, they'll pluck him clean once more. 

That’s his life. That’s all it’ll ever be. A sickly, half conscious life, hazed over with fever and pain, dying slowly from lack of contact, lack of socialization, lack of touch.  
…  
A knock on his door has him jolting, a strange foreboding in his chest, a tightness to his lungs, and he hears someone speaking, but they sound a million miles away, and he’s petrified, he can’t seem to move a single muscle, he’s frozen in place, though his mind is screaming at him, to do something, anything, he can’t, as his vision swims, he can’t. 

All he can hear is the chiming tone that tells him its time to get up for the day, to put on his loose, white clothing, to quietly eat his meal, to sit on the bed and wait silently for them to come retrieve him, to keep his eyes down and his hands in front of him, to make no motion until told, otherwise they’ll be forced to retaliate to protect themselves, regardless of whether he’s attacking or not. 

He's never attacking. He’s too scared, too well trained, to attack, to try anything, at this point, he knows it would be useless. Even if he bit one, two of them, sent them shaking and convulsing to the ground, there would be more, and he can’t fight through them all, can’t make it out of this facility, wherever it is, doesn’t even know if they’re on a planet or drifting in space, and there’s no point to resisting. Better to be compliant and meek and do as he’s told. 

Another soft knock, voice a bit louder, more concerned, gives him enough, shocks his mind, his system enough to break out of his stupor, to move, to stumble, stagger, trip over his own feet through a tilted, spinning world speckled with dark spots, to make it to the door, fumbling with the locks before finally managing to undo them, knowing that voice will somehow make this better, will somehow keep all of that from happening, will somehow get him out of here, where there’s no space and air and light and he can’t breathe or see or speak. 

The door opens and he falls, though warm arms catch him, the voice inhales sharply, speaking, though he still can’t hear, he should be able to hear him, he can get the sense of what he’s saying, but not the words, and dimly he registers the arms moving, scooping him up, off the ground, and he clings to the voice, as they carry him somewhere else, somewhere open, more space, before sitting down, though not letting go. 

He registers counting, a slow, steady rhtym, one he knows, one he uses, one he tries to emulate now, in fits and starts, feeling a hand softly running up and down his arm, shivering as it touches his scales, phantom pain making him flinch, and the movement stops. 

“N-no… D-d-don’t…” He can’t choke out more than that, but they seem to understand, resuming their gentle up and down motion, especially light and gentle over his scales, slowly soothing him, because no one besides his crew, his friends, his family, are allowed to touch them, and only they have ever been this gentle with him, and as his breathing finally starts to even, his heart rate starts to beat normally, copying the rhythm it can feel from the warm body pressed against his, his vision starts to clear, and he slumps forwards, the tension leaking out of him as he presses his head into Logan’s chest, trembling as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Janus?” Comes the soft, quiet question, and he nods, even that motion takes too much effort, too much energy, but he summons his words anyway. 

“yes. ‘M here.” He mumbles, feeling Logan’s own relieved breath, his arms wrapping securely around his back, holding him close, as he realizes tears are slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “sorry. Didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan shushes him, slowly rocking him back and forth. 

“No. I’m sorry. I should have realized, today’s events would be triggering. One of us should have checked up on you, after you settled Remus.” He shivers, folding tighter against Logan, exhaustion from the fading adrenaline and panic attack shattering his normal walls. 

“If he hadn’t been there… Lo, if he hadn’t-“ He breaks off, choking on his words, on his fear. “I can’t do it again. I c-can’t… I didn’t know, then, but I do, now, and I c-can’t-“ 

“Shh, shh, shh, I know, I know, Janus. But you don’t have to. You will never, never have to go through that again. You’re safe, you’re safe, Janus, and we, I, will never let that happen to you again. I promise.” Logan murmurs, gently running his thumb in circles against Janus’s cheek, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. “I promise. I’m not letting go, alright? Get some rest. I’ll keep anything from harming you, while you sleep, I promise.” 

“N-not… Y-you and P-patton and Vi-rgil, c-can’t let them… can’t h-ave y-y-you-“ He can feel Janus already starting to drift, unable to hold on to awareness, after such a strong attack, plus his already elevated exhaustion and worry and stress, his words making his heart ache, because despite everything, Janus was focused on them, worried about them, getting taken, keeping them safe. 

“We’re all ok, Janus. No one is going anywhere. No one is leaving. No one is going to hurt them. I promise.” He murmurs, relaxing himself as he feels Janus’s breath even into deep, long, inhales and exhales, going fully limp against him, smiling down at the sleeping Naga, at the trust and faith his friend has in him, to not need locked doors to keep him safe, when Logan is right there, watching over him. 

He forgets, sometimes, where Janus has come from. How long, he spent in that endlessly cruel monotonous captivity.

He came so far, so fast, and even now, he masks his pain so well, hides behind that wicked smirk and smooth surety, and its so easy, to forget when they first got to him nearly eight years ago he barely spoke a single word for three months, nearly convincing all of them he was mute. It took him longer still, to understand choices, they had to introduce them slowly, starting with ‘would you prefer A or B' type questions before moving to open ended ones.

It's easy to forget, just how brave he is, acting as their inside man when necessary, posing as a buyer to get onto smuggler's ships, playing the part he hates more than anything, no doubt terrified beneath the surface, because if anything went wrong, in most cases, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. But he never backs down, never says no, and Logan knows that Janus would rather perish than fail to free whomever they held trapped, and it scares him, his reckless, fast paced bravery, scares him. Because he is just as terrified of losing Janus as he clearly is of losing them. It makes him hold on a little tighter, continuing to rub Janus’s back, to murmur softly to him, keeping him company through the rest of the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Remus spend some bonding time with Patton, and Janus and Logan have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again! I promise none of my WIPS are dead, it's just taking me a while to get inspiration for them. I'm determined to finish them all.

Soft. 

He’s surrounded by warm, gentle softness. It’s maybe the softest thing he’s ever felt, and he sleepily nuzzles further into it, his hands curling into the soft. It reminds him of his footie pajamas he’d gotten back home, on Christmas eve every year. That was a tradition of theirs, new, surprise, pajamas on Christmas eve. It kept them busy, trying to weasel out the location of those, instead of the actual presents, but still. They were perfect. Almost as perfect as this, and for a moment, he lets the warmth wash over him, lets himself pretend he’s back home, waiting for Remus to leap off the top bunk onto his bed below, for the two of them to run, screaming and shouting and pushing and shoving down the stairs to the tree to open presents. 

Then the warmth shifts, and he feels a breath against his head, and he blinks open his eyes, realizing he’s curled up against the warm, realizing after a moment, what’s surrounding him is feathers, wings…

“Patton?” He asks blearily, feeling fingers teasing through his hair. “Wha’s the time?” 

“It’s not too late, kiddo. Mid morning. You seemed to sleep pretty well.” Patton answered, and he shrugged, mumbling something incoherently sleepy. He feels Patton’s soft laughter against him. 

Then his heart rate skyrockets about ten notches up the totem pole, as he realizes two things. One, he’s laying on top of Patton’s wing, and probably fucking up his feathers, and putting that much weight on it for that long can’t be good, and what if he hurt it, and what if he pulled his feathers, and he rockets away, away from the soft and the warm and out into the early morning sunlight. 

The second is that Remus has been alone all night. He doesn’t know the last time they spent a night apart, well, a night apart that he was consious for, at least, and they never liked being apart, even Before, they were rarely separate from each other. And the last time, the last time they were, Remus had thought he was dead. 

“Kiddo, easy, kiddo. What’s wrong?” Patton asks, voice soft and even, as he swallows, trying to get his words in order enough to speak. 

“S-sorry… “ Is what finally comes out, Patton’s forehead creasing further. 

“For what, honey? You haven’t done anything wrong.” He can’t seem to find his words anymore, so he just points to Patton’s wings, which he’s stretching out behind him, now that he isn’t laying on one. Patton frowns, following his finger, eyes lighting up with understanding. “You’re worried about my wings? They’re a lot sturdier than they look, kiddo, they’re fine. I’ll need some help preening them, but they’re always all rumpled after I wake up. You wanna? I can show you how, it’s pretty easy.” He looks towards the ship, concern clear on his face, because surely, Remus is losing it by now. 

“He was still pretty out of it, last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sleeps a little late. Virgil headed in a while ago, to check up on him, he’ll get us if anything happens.” Slowly, Roman nods, relaxing slightly, moving closer to Patton, as he stretches out his wings. “So, basically, you just want to straighten out the feathers that are rumpled or out of place. Some might come out, and that’s ok, you’re not doing anything wrong, I do molt and lose feathers from time to time. If they’re loose, you can try gently sliding it back in, otherwise it’s alright.” Patton explains, stretching out further, shifting so his back is to Roman. 

He smiles at the gentle touch of his wing, so light it’s barely there at all, and he hums softly, radiating contented peacefulness. He can feel how nervous, Roman is, of doing anything wrong, of accidentally hurting him, and he silently laughs, at how kind he is, despite everything he’s faced. 

“You’re doing just fine, sweetie.” He murmurs encouragingly, and Roman nods, focusing on his wings, marveling still at their softness, at the trust Patton is placing in him, turning his back, putting his wings, the most vulnerable part of him, in his care, and he’s determined to not shatter this moment. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been working, not more than a few minutes, when he hears footsteps, recognizing the solid pattern of Remus. He pauses, looking up, relief cresting over him at his brother, looking well rested for the first time in years, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey, brobro. Sleep ok?” He opens his mouth to reply, frowning as nothing comes out but a faint gasp of air, his throat refusing to work. Remus just nods, ruffling his hair as he sits down beside him. “Quiet day?” He asks softly. Roman shrugs, nodding. Apparently, he says with his body language, which Remus can read like a book. It hasn’t happened in a while, this muteness, but it did Then, after particularly rough days or a rough series of days, sometimes Roman would get so overwhelmed by it all he just… couldn’t speak. “Ok. Did you guys sleep out here?” He asks, taking in the discarded blankets, and Roman’s messy bed head. 

“Uh huh. Roman wanted to stay outside longer, so we had a little slumber party. Virgil kept watch for us. Oh! You wanna help?” Patton chirps, and he hesitates, unsure, then Roman bumps his shoulder, basically telling him to get on with it and stop overthinking. He huffs out a small laugh, bumping Roman back, before shifting over to Patton’s other wing, hesitant and careful as he reaches out, starts straightening feathers. 

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Patton asks softly, and he flinches, hand shaking slightly as he continues to sort through his feathers. “I know that must have been really scary.” 

“I… don’t know. I don’t really… remember it, clearly. I can’t tell whether that’s better or worse. I just… I was back there. Fighting to keep Ro.” He mumbles, focusing on the feathers, on the wings, ignoring his hand shaking. “but I wanna go back, to the market.” He feels Roman's surprised eyes on him, can tell Patton's considering intently. “I don’t want to be afraid, I… I know, you guys will protect us. If anything happens. You wouldn’t let them take us. So I want to go back. And… and pick out some stuff for the room, if that’s still ok.” He mumbles, heart beating just a little faster, he's afraid, asking for things, asking to go back into danger, but he wants this, and he… he’s allowed, to want things. Right?

“Can I hug you?” Patton asks softly, the change of gears surprising him for a moment, before he nods, and Patton turns, hugs him softly, loose enough he can pull away, but he doesn’t. He leans into it, letting Patton slowly enfold him within his wings.

“you’re so brave, kiddo. I don’t know how you do it, but you’re so brave. Of course, we can go.” Patton murmurs, and he relaxes, letting out a soft breath, letting the hug go on a moment later, before pulling back. 

“You in, Roman?” He asks, looking at his brother carefully. “You don’t have to come.” Roman shakes his head, squeezing his hand. ‘if you go, I go' is the silent sentiment. He smiles, resting his forehead against Roman’s for a moment. “Alright."  
…  
He's woken by laughter. Not an unpleasant way to wake up. Everyone’s been too worried recently to laugh like that, carefree and loud. 

“Janus. You really should get up.” He rolls over at that, hand lazily rubbing his face.

“But you’re so toasty, Logan. Why would I ever want to move from my favorite heater?” He says, opening his eyes with a slight smirk at Logan's small laugh.

“Because it is nearly midafternoon. And we really should be somewhat productive.” 

“mmmm no.” He hums, Logan shaking his head fondly, before something a little more serious slips into his gaze.

“you haven’t been sleeping again.” It’s not a question, so he doesn’t answer, instead sitting up and stretching, feeling Logan's eyes on him, studiously ignoring them. He’s rather good at ignoring things by now, and he starts to head to the kitchen, feeling Logan following him. 

“Is there something you would like to say, Logan?” He asks, fumbling for a cup of water, not realizing how badly his hand is shaking until he tries to hold it steady under the faucet, flushing as Logan gently takes the cup from him and fills it, setting it on the counter. 

“Just that I am concerned for you, Janus. I dislike knowing you are struggling, without being allowed to assist you. I know that is your right, and I will respect it, but that does not mean I have to be pleased. I know you are excellent at hiding your emotions, perhaps even better than I, and I would just like to reassure you that I am here if you need or want anything, at any time. I would like you to feel able to confide in me, to allow me to do my best to help, and it is frustrating being pushed away, but again, if that is what you want, I will respect it. I just want you to be able to be safe and happy, Janus.” Logan says evenly, earnestly, and he sighs, leaning on the counter and squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment, taking the time to organize his thoughts. 

“I hadn’t ever started sleeping, Logan. Not really. Most nights I get a decent amount, enough I can manage, but not what would be considered a healthy amount. At first, it was because of fear, nightmares, anxiety, some nights that’s still true, last night it certainly was. But…” he pauses, taking another deep breath, he’s never told them this, they don’t know this, about him. About Nagas. 

“but?” Logan gently prompts, and he lets out his breath, opening his eyes and staring down at the counter. 

“Nagas are supposed to be physical creatures. We are intrinsically wired to need touch, and lots of it. We sleep in piles, tangled around each other. Hand holding between friends is common, expected. Greetings are touching our foreheads together. We crave it like fresh water, like sunlight, like warmth. We are made to thrive with physical affection and wither without it.” He knocks his knuckles nervously against the counter, before looking at Logan again, eyes barely flicking over his face. “so. There’s that.” 

“Oh. Oh. I… see. And it is… that way for you, as well? I had come across that in my research, but you never seemed to exhibit any desire.” Logan asks carefully, making a wry smile flit across his face. 

“Oh, there was plenty desire. I didn’t realize at first, that’s what I wanted, because I hadn’t had it in so long. But I saw you comforting each other and any small touch sent fire tingling across my skin, and it burned but felt so good at the same time.” 

“Why didn’t you say? You know we would have helped. We’ve offered, haven’t we? I’m sure we must have, Patton is constantly asking everyone for hugs, surely-“ 

“Logan. It isn’t you.” He cuts off his rambling before it goes down a rabbit hole, as much as he loves to listen to Logan lecture, now is not the time. “You’ve all offered, countless times. I have always said no. No matter how badly I wanted it, how badly it hurt, how much I… I ached for it, I said no. Because I was… I am… afraid. I… losing it the first time, losing touch the first time, nearly killed me on its own. I managed for thirteen years without it, what’s a few more? What’s… why risk it, when it could just get taken away again? It would destroy me, Logan, and I was done letting anyone have my trust in this, letting anyone have any power over me, let alone in such an intimate way. I would not let my body use this against me.” He’s looking away again, voice almost a whisper as he finishes, the silence so loud in his ears as he waits for Logan to say something, anything. 

“Janus. We would never.” The wry smile is on his face as he shakes his head. 

“I know. I didn’t at first, but I came to believe that myself years ago. It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s… it’s the universe. The random chance of it all. Yesterday… yesterday was a reminder of that.” 

“Everyone is fine, and we are all still together.” 

“But we almost weren’t. But if things had gone slightly differently, we wouldn’t be. If Remus hadn’t been so vigilant, if the sedatives had been stronger, if they’d caught me alone, things wouldn’t be. And I know, you’d all search the universe head to toe to find me again, but who knows how long it would take, to track me down, who knows what would have happened by then, who knows how long I’d be isolated once more, and if that happened, and I let myself give in to touch, all I know is I wouldn’t last long. So I’m… scared. Because I’m so close, to just caving and saying fuck it all, but I’m so scared, Logan, I’m just…” He breaks off, realizing his arms are around his middle, hugging himself. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“let me help. Please.” Logan asks, stepping closer, so close, he can feel the heat radiating from him, can remember just barely being curled tight to him last night, sleeping better than he had in years, the warmth of this morning still slowly fading away, leaving a cold, empty hole in his chest, and he can’t, he just can’t, keep living like this, keep holding this back, he wants to let them in, to break this last barrier, he wants… 

“yes.” He whispers, meeting Logan’s eyes, voice shaking. “ok.” He folds as Logan’s arms come tentatively around him, gasping at the heat, the warmth, that traces every inch of his skin, consuming him in soft delight as he lets the feeling carry him, melting against Logan, nuzzling close against his chest, the world slipping away from around him until the only, only thing, is the perfect, soft, safe, warmth, Logan’s heartbeat, and the gentle swaying of Logan’s arms around him. It’s almost too much and almost too hot, but even if it burned he doesn’t think he can pull away now, not with the bliss running through him, overwhelming every sense, as he lets himself feel it, instead of shoving it away.

He realizes he’s never truly felt warm in his entire life, until now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers return to the market, and the snek gets some snuggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM 
> 
> ANOTHER ONE

Roman squeezes Remus’s hand tight as they walk through the market. He felt self conscious, they both did, because everyone knew what they were, now, after yesterday.

But… but they don’t seem scared. A couple beings say hello to them, others giving them small gestures of greeting in lieu of verbal greetings. Everyone is soft and sympathetic, and Remus remembers what Janus had told him, that many people here were refugees of one sort or another. He supposes it didn’t matter to them what race they are, they understand that they’re victims as well. 

It’s still nerve wracking. 

Patton iss good, though. He’s a steady presence just behind them, wings spread slightly to assuage Remus’s fear of an attack from behind. He also quietly points out the stalls he’d noticed them looking at the hardest before. 

“You’re the Terrans, are you not?” A young being asks, coming up to them. Her skin iss a deep olive green, her hair shimmery like raven’s wings, her eyes impossibly large and dark. Remus moves subtly, so Roman is just a tad behind him, though he knows Patton is keeping a close eye on them, from just a bit farther down. 

“Yes.” He answers, a bit sharply, but not entirely unkindly. 

“Here.” He’s surprised as she shoves two small stuffed animals into his hands. One is a small octopus cloth rag doll. The other is a little pink rabbit. “They’re Terran too. I thought they could keep you company.” Remus doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he could speak past the lump in his throat.

“thank you.” Roman rasps, summoning words. The girl nods, softness in her eyes. 

“I lost my cousin, to the trade. He was there one day, gone the next. You’re very brave, Terrans. Good luck to you.” She says, with a final wave, slipping back into the stream of people. 

“Remus…” Roman says, trailing off as Remus turns to him with a shaky smile, pressing the bunny into his hands, holding the octopus tight to his chest, pressing his face against the soft fabric. It smells like old fabric, a bit like he vaguely remembers their grandparent’s house smelling, a comforting, old, scent. 

“I forgot random people could be nice.” He mumbled. “You’ve never given up on that, Ro.” Roman pulls Remus into a hug, staying like that for a long moment, before Remus finally pushes away, swiping at his eyes. 

“That’s because of you, Ree. Everything you did to keep me safe, to keep me from the worst of it. Now, come on, let’s try to have some fun.” Roman grabs his wrist, with that stupid smile on his face that always meant they were going to get into trouble, pulling him further through the market. 

Roman always makes friends easily, and as nervous as Remus can tell he is, that doesn’t stop him from engaging with the stall keepers, Patton helping haggle for goods, listening with interest to the explanations of what everything is and how it’s made and from what and from where. By the end, their heads are spinning from new information, the names of distant planets and races and beings.

They’re laughing as they return to the ship, laden with bags, Patton insisting on them getting whatever they wanted, even when Remus and Roman were wary of it, of spending too much money, but there’s no stopping the Seraph when he’s on a mission. Eventual they gave in and just let him. 

New clothes, warmer, better clothes. Notebooks. A wall hanging for the room, some decorative nick knacks, another blanket that Remus adored, because it was so soft and warm it felt like heaven, just touching it makes him want to sleep, a desire he hasn’t felt in ages. 

And Roman is laughing too, talking, the happiness chasing away the fear and anxiety and overwhelmingness that had made his body freeze up and refuse to utter a sound. They were both still clutching their plushies, and Remus doubted they’d ever go anywhere without them again. He doesn’t know how these things made their way all the way out here from Earth, but he isn’t questioning it. It’s something from home, the only thing from home he has left, except for Roman. 

Patton smiles as he sends them off with the bags, the two chattering so fast he can barely keep up, finishing each other’s sentences and giggling every time they do. It’s the happiest he’s ever seen the two of them, and it makes him feel light as one of his feathers, this relaxed… ease, that lingers around the two of them. He watches them setting up, for a bit, showing them were the adhesents are, before wandering away, once he’s sure they have a handle on it. 

He walks into the kitchen, intending to get a snack, surprised, then worried, to find Logan, holding Janus close and tight, the Naga shaking in his arms, short, gasping sobs escaping him periodically. 

“Janus! What happened?” He asks, eyes flicking to Logan. 

“He had an episode last night. He is also severely, clinically touch starved, and has been for over a decade, now. He is allowing me to help.” Logan answers lowly, and Patton softens, wings dropping. 

“Oh. Oh, Jan. Can I-“ 

“Yes. P-please.” Janus’s rasping voice cuts off the rest of his question, and instantly Patton wraps his arms around him, sandwiching him against Logan, wings stretching to embrace them both, and Janus is shaking so, so hard, he thinks his legs would have given out by now, if it weren’t for their weight keeping him upright.

It burns. It burns, against his skin, against his scales, god his scales, they are aflame from the heat of touch, so hot they feel cold, biting into him where they meet flesh. It’s dizzying, dazzling, he can barely understand the words being spoken around him, but Patton filters through, asking if he can, and he doesn’t fully comprehend the question but the answer is yes. 

And now there’s weight against his back as well, more warmth against him, pressing him closer to the warmth afore him, and he’s shaking, he’s shaking from the strength of the need welling up from deep inside, from where he’s shoved it down and buried it for so long, and it burns, but he doesn’t want it to stop, he doesn’t want it to ever stop.

Then he’s cold. He gasps, from the shock of it, like ice water being tossed atop him, like being buried in snow it’s so, so cold and he sinks to his knees, his legs unable to support him, but his mind is starting to fizzle back into being, and he registers soft speaking, someone gently squeezing his hands, talking to him. 

‘Pa-Patton.” He manages, after a long struggle, blinking his vision clear, his shaking abating somewhat, though not enough. 

“Hey, Jan. sorry, we overwhelmed you, I think. Too much too fast. How are you feeling, Plumana?” 

“cold… it’s so c-cold.” 

“I know it feels that way. It will until touch becomes naturalized to you once more. Being without it for so long has lasting effects. Cuddling is, of course, the quickest way to accomplish this, but perhaps just one of us at time, so it isn’t as overpowering. Would you mind sleeping in one of our beds, with us, at night? The sleeping mind is less prone to overstimulation, and absorbs the sensation of contact more easily. It is perfectly fine if that is something you are not comfortable with, of course, it is merely an idea. 

“That sounds fine. Nice, I suppose.” He answers, freeing one of his hands from Patton’s grip, scrubbing at his face, before pushing back his hair with a long breath. He smiles smally at Patton’s worried face, shaking his head. 

“I’m fine now, Pat. It was just… just a lot.” 

“Regardless, you should really eat something. Patton, have you seen Virgil this morning?” He shakes his head. 

“No, but me and Roman camped out last night, so he spent most of it on guard. Probably didn’t start lurking until we woke up a few hours ago. I’ll peek in on him, just in case.” 

“Have the boys eaten this morning? I know Remus went outside awhile ago, but he didn’t grab any food.” 

“Oh, we grabbed some at the market, though I’m sure they wouldn’t say no to more. Both of them are too thin for their own good.” Patton answers, pulling Janus to his feet, the other too stunned to say anything. 

“You went back to the market without anyone else? With Remus and Roman?” Logan asks, voice a bit shrill. Patton shrugs. 

“Yeah. Remus said he wanted to go and pick out some stuff for the room. Said he didn’t want to be afraid, anymore. I was keeping a close eye on them, Lo, and so was everyone else. They’re decorating now.” Logan was about to comment on their foolishness, but stilled at Janus slipping into a seat at the kitchen island, a soft smile settling onto his lips. 

“Laughter.” He says simply, and Logan creases his brows. “That’s what woke me up this morning, Logan. It was the two of them, laughing.” Logan’s indignant concern immediately dies out, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I suppose as long as they are both happy and you took proper precautions, everything is fine. Just… at least tell one of us, next time, before you go gallivanting off somewhere, Patton.” 

“Of course, Lo. I’m sorry, for worrying you.” Logan sputters at that as Patton sweeps out of the room, a grin on his face. 

“I wasn’t worried. Merely mildly concerned.” He grumbles, glowering more at Janus’s soft laughter. 

“Of course, Lo. Nothing to it, I’m sure.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff!

“How’s it going?” Roman grins he looks up at the doorway, Virgil having knocked softly to get their attention. 

“Pretty good. Getting everything hung up and organized.” Remus answers, from where he’s balancing precariously on top of a step stool, hooking a woven blanket to the wall, depicting a dragon sitting atop a gleaming castle, one he thinks Patton had been eyeing in the market before everything went to hell. There are two beds in there too, now, instead of the one and the cot. They each have a chest of drawers against the base of their beds, little knick knacks atop each one, some crystals and little metalwork sculptures, each of them have a little glowing salt lamp, so it won’t be as dark at night. There’s an area rug too, that looks deep and soft, patterned with dark red and green zig zags. The beds have new blankets, too, one a deep red, the other a deep green, and he’s sure the drawers are filled with new clothes as well. 

“Seems cozier. I’m glad you guys are settling in. And… y’know, staying.” Virgil says, biting his lip and looking away. “I’d, um, miss you guys. If you left.” 

“Well, it’s not like we have anywhere else to go.” Remus replies, coming down from the ladder, though he’s got a playful smirk on his face, that Virgil echoes. 

“thanks. For keeping watch, last night. I just… I couldn’t stay inside, it was too… small.” 

“No problem. I’m usually up late anyways.” Virgil shrugs. “I do better outside in the dark. Sometimes the sun can get a little intense, depending on the planet.” Remus tilts his head, a question on his lips, but he hesitates in asking, until Virgil raises an eyebrow. 

“What exactly do you guys do?” Comes out in a rush, and Virgil blinks. “I mean, I know you do rescue stuff, and stuff, but like, that can’t be your actual job. That doesn’t make money. So what… what do you do?” Virgil softens, blowing his bangs out of his face.

“We’re freelance researchers. Take up gigs to explore uncharted planets or star systems, sometimes. Usually we get some kind of bounty from whatever smugglers we take down and turn in, too, though we put that into a fund we have to support the refugees we take in. It’s more than enough to keep the ship running and keep us well supplied. It also lets us decide when we go on an expedition, so when we get a lead on smugglers we’re free to pursue it. And the wider galactic governing force supports our efforts, so they give us any info they have, if they have it, about ships in our area, though they’re pretty good at flying under the radar. We get most of our info from the planets we land on. Janus poses as a buyer, or interested party, gets onboard the ships, or more likely, sets up a rendezvous in neutral space. He goes in, scopes the place out, relays the layout and information, gets the smugglers to incriminate themselves as much as he can, then he radios the rest of us to bring the money and finalize the deal, and that’s when we swoop in. That’s… the most dangerous part. Janus is there by himself and he has to fend for himself until the rest of us can get there. He’s a brilliant fighter, don’t get me wrong, but it’s always intense. The researching gig is a lot calmer. Usually just taking a few surface samples of plants and dirt, scans of the planet, determining air makeup, that sort of thing.” Remus nods, sitting down hard on his bed. Roman glances between him and Virgil, frowning slightly. 

“Then why… do you do it? If it’s so dangerous, why… what’s the point of putting yourselves in that danger, for random strangers? What if one of you had died, or gotten captured, rescuing us?” Remus asks, and Virgil pads across the room, sitting on the bed next to him. 

“We do it because it’s right. Because we want to. Because no one deserves to go through what you did, and if we can prevent that or stop it, it’s worth the risk.” Remus shakes his head fervently, Roman settling beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“Rem-“ 

“I’m not worth it.” Remus says softly, looking up at Virgil. “I’m not worth you, or Patton, or Logan, or Janus. I’m not worth anything. I’m not worth the risk and effort and time, and I don’t understand… why none of you get that.” Virgil exhales deeply, resting a hand against Remus’s back. 

“Because it isn’t true. I understand you believe that it is, but it isn’t, Remus. You’re not worth any less than the rest of us. I’ve seen it, Remus. I’ve seen how kind and caring and protective you are. But you don’t have to be completely selfless anymore. You can focus on yourself, you can look out for yourself, because we have your back. We have you.” Virgil states, softly but firmly, hugging Remus as he leans against him, pressing his face to his side. “You’re worth it. You both are.” He meets Roman’s eyes, which widen, before he looks away, biting the inside of his cheek, and he knows Roman doesn’t quite believe it either, so he tugs Roman around, tucking him under his other arm, feeling a bit like a mother duck brooding her hatchlings as Roman also tucks himself under his other arm, curling close against him. 

“you’re all so good.” Remus mumbles, and Virgil’s breath caught, because he would be the last one to say anything about himself was ‘good’. 

“So are you, Ree.” He takes a deep breath. “There is… well, I was supposed to give you a heads up. We’ll be leaving, here. Probably tomorrow evening, late, so we can get another full day on the ground. We’ve restocked and there are plenty of new gigs to choose from, and you’ll have an input on that, of course. We’ll probably be figuring that out tomorrow, Logan’s got them narrowed down to a few good choices. I know it… it could be hard. Leaving solid ground again.” Roman meets Remus’s eyes, communicating without words. 

“yeah. But I think… we’ll be alright. I trust you, Virgil. I know… I know none of you will hurt us.” Roman answers, and Virgil simply holds them tighter, feeling the both of them melt against him, his heart aching at how amazingly brave they are.   
…

“I have dinner ready, if anyone would like to eat.” Logan said, adding the last pinch of salt to the hearty stew he had made, one of the few things he could cook. Baking was a different story. That had precise measurements, precise temperatures, precise cook times. That made sense. But everyone needed something filling and warm, and somehow his stew and soups always came out perfectly. 

“I’ll go check on them. Virgil’s been in with the boys for an awful long time.” Patton said lowly, though Janus hissed in protest, from where he was leaning against Patton, one of Patton’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. The warmth and touch was intoxicating, but not overwhelming, as it had been earlier. Perhaps it was because it was only one person, and from one side, but it just felt so damn good, and it was making him slightly sleepy. Or maybe that was just the warmth, it was so incredibly warm. 

“They’re fine.” He mutters, making Patton laugh. “They haven’t screamed, yet, that means they’re fine.”

“Jan, I have to get up eventually. And you need to eat, so you need to get up, too.” Janus sighs dramatically, before slowly pushing himself upright and off of Patton. 

“fine. But next time you sit down, watch yourself.” Patton laughs again, as he stands, stretching his wings. 

“I take it you’ll be spending the night with Patton, then?” Logan asks, and Janus can hear the smirk on his face. 

“Perhaps. Though after this morning I know you are quite the snuggle bug yourself, Logan.” He replies, poking his head up over the couch to see the light blush on Logan’s face, his turn to smirk. 

“Play nice, you two. I’ll be right back.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here's the angst!

Patton knocks lightly on their door, before opening it, peeking inside. He’s pleased to see the three of them sitting on the floor, each of them holding cards in their hand, taking turns placing one down. 

“Uno!” Remus calls, placing down his second to last card. Roman scowls good naturedly, though he has the most cards of any of them, at least nine. 

“It’s on you, Vee, I can’t do anything.” Roman says, drawing another card. Virgil looks indecisively at his cards, before picking one. Remus grins victoriously and slaps down his final card, making Virgil groan and Roman face palm. 

“That’s the third one in a row! How are you doing this!?” Virgil asks, and Remus just shrugs. 

“Luck!” 

“Like hell it is. You’re lucky we don’t have a proper deck for this, or I’d have loaded you with so many skips and plus twos you’d be drowning in cards.” Roman answers, taking everyone’s cards and reshuffling them into the deck. 

“We should make some! Add them in, so it’s more like a real Uno deck. We could make our own cards, too, like you have thirty seconds to fetch something blue, or you have to draw three cards. Random stuff.” Remus adds, and Roman’s eyes light up. 

“We could make an entirely new game!” They both freeze as Patton lightly clears his throat, and he hates how they both tense up, fear flashing through their eyes. 

“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to get you for supper. What… what were you playing? It didn’t look familiar.” He asks, and the tension vanishes from their shoulders. 

“It’s a game from Earth called Uno! Which means one in Spanish, because when you only have one card left you have to yell Uno, otherwise someone can call you on it, and then you have to draw more cards.” Patton nods, though he’s honestly kind of lost, and it must show on his face. 

“It’s actually pretty easy to pick up, Pat. They can explain the rules over dinner, and we can play some more later, if you guys want. It was pretty fun.” 

“Oh, neat! Um… what’s Spanish?” Patton asks, as they walk back down the hallway. 

“One of the languages people speak. I’d started learning a bit of it, before… everything. I just knew a few basics. Could count to like twenty.” Remus answers. 

“How many languages are there?” Virgil asks, and Roman shrugs. 

“Hundreds. Probably thousands, if we’re counting dialects. Some are more common than others. English, which is what we speak. Spanish was probably the second most common, where we’re from. Then maybe Hmong? German? They taught those at the high school, at least.” 

“And French.” Remus adds. 

“I may be mistaken, but did you just say that Earth has thousands of individual, distinct languages?” Logan asks, looking up from where he’d sat at the kitchen island. 

“Yup!” Roman replies, popping the ‘p’ and grabbing a bowl off the counter, leaning back against it as he started blowing on a spoonful. 

“That… is incredible! The most diverse planet I’ve heard of only has approximately one hundred. How did so many languages possibly develop on one planet?” 

“Can’t help ya there. I barely was in middle school, we weren’t exactly covering language development. There are whole careers dedicated to understanding that sort of thing.” Remus answers, plopping down onto an armchair, legs dangling over the arm of the chair, so he’s facing the kitchen as he eats. 

“Fascinating. So much about earth is still kept highly secret, I would never have guessed there to be so much linguistic variety. It makes me wonder what else I have incorrectly assumed.”   
…  
“Pain tolerance is much higher than I had previously thought. It makes me wonder what else I have incorrectly assumed. Thus, today, I will refrain from using any of the sedatives we had previously, and instead only use the muscle paralyzers. Thus the subject will be conscious and aware, simply immobile. I am interested what effect this will have on today’s results.” He wanted to scream, and thrash and claw, he knew if he was mobile, he would, but his wrists and ankles were strapped to the table, and they’d already injected him with the paralyzers, so he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t even close his eyes, he was frozen in place, and he hated it, he hated it, and he was scared. They’d never kept him awake before, at least completely awake, usually he was sedated somewhat. 

“That being said, we will be repeating some earlier tests, and see if this aware state effects the results any.” No. No, no, no, please, please, please! 

He wants to scream, but nothing came out, his heart was speeding, but his breath wasn’t, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t get away!

“Experiment 1. Electricity.” His heart sped faster, and he almost managed to shake off the effects of the paralyzers, then fire was scorching through him, into him, and he couldn’t get any air, past the convulsions of his lungs, the tremors wracking through him, and it hurt, it hurt it hurt! Please, stop, stopstopstopSTOPSTOP- 

“s… re… s… eath…” Distant, it sounds so distant, he can’t understand, it’s like being a million miles under the sea, it’s so loud, in his head, and he can’t understand, because his head is ringing, and he’s flooded with too many sensations, he’s burning and he’s hot and cold and burning and electricity is scorching him, but he’s so cold and it’s all clashing together and he doesn’t know where he is, anymore, he’s drowning, he’s drowning in nothing! 

His vision swirls, and suddenly he’s back in that nightmare, that worst nightmare, the first nightmare, the one Virgil had thrown him into, the dark room, the red on his hands, his brother being torn apart by his own hands, and he wants to scream, but he still can’t, he can barely breathe, much less scream. 

“Remus. Remus, look at me.” His head jerks up almost without his permission, and he just barely registers it’s Virgil, before he jerks back, Virgil’s hand outstretched towards him, realizing the motion is the reason he’d retreated. 

“wh… why… are we… h-here?” 

“You were having a panic attack. You started dissociating. We couldn’t get through to you. So I pulled you here.” 

“into… a… nightmare…” He gasps, close to shattering. 

“No! No, it’s… I have control over this space, this time. It’s not a nightmare. It’s just where I could reach you. Just a space, in your head. Can I come closer?” Virgil asks, and he jerks his head shakily, Virgil taking a few steps closer, stopping a foot away, once he flinches. 

“hey. Hey, it’s just me, ok? You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything bad happen here.” Virgil says softly, gently, and he wants to believe him, but his mind is still screaming at him, conflicting messages of safety and fear and danger and fine. 

“help… V-vee… c-can’t…” Virgil looks moments from shattering, and he doesn’t understand why, all he knows is he hurts, he hurts, and he’s scared, and he doesn’t know why! 

“ok. If you’ll let me, ok.” Virgil says gently, closing the distance between them, slowly reaching out and wrapping his arms around him slowly, pulling him close, into a hug. Into warmth that didn’t burn. Into softness, of his sweater. Into safety, and his breathing hitched, sobs tearing from his lungs. 

“s-sorry… I’m s-sorry… I…” He gasps, voice cracking into a million pieces. 

“Shh. It’s ok, Ree. It’s ok, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s ok.” They stay like that for a long while, before Remus’s sobs die down into sniffles. 

“If it’s ok… can I ask what happened? What… what triggered this?” Remus’s heart drops, and he tries for a deep breath, managing a gasping wheeze instead.

“It’s so… It’s s-stupid.” He mutters. 

“It isn’t. If it made you react that strongly, makes you react at all, it isn’t stupid.” He feels Virgil rub circles against his back, making him slump further against Virgil. “Tell me, please?” 

“Was what l-logan said. ‘it makes me wonder what else I have incorrectly assumed.’ He had s-said that. The S-scientist. Before… before the w-worst started. When they st-stopped using p-pain killers.” Virgil inhales sharply, holding him tighter, and he buries his face against Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes closed, trying to escape his own mind.

“Ok. Ok, thank you, Remus. Thank you for telling me. Now. Can we take a couple deep breaths? In and out, please. In for four… hold for seven… out for eight…” Virgil counts, and after a few rounds, he feels something loosening, it becomes easier to breathe, his thoughts start to slow their spinning, and he can breathe again. 

“That’s really good, Ree. You’re doing so good. Take just a few more, ok?” He feels the world shifting again, falling away, but it isn’t scary, this time, it isn’t bad, it feels warm and safe and light, like Virgil. 

Virgil’s got him. Virgil’s there. Virgil’s safe. 

He’s safe.   
…

Virgil slowly blinks open his eyes, wincing slightly at how bright the room is, though he knows in reality, it’s fairly dim. He does relax somewhat, looking at Remus, who is now asleep himself, though a simple tap with his power is enough to know it’s peaceful, Remus is at a complete sense of ease and peace. 

He realizes a blanket has been draped around his shoulders, and he smiles, pulling it tighter, letting out a low breath as he looks up. 

Janus is sprawled across his usual chair, though he’s tense. Logan is washing dishes in the kitchen, though his movements are sharp and shaky. Patton is sitting on the couch with Roman, quietly reassuring him. No one has noticed he’s ‘back’, yet. 

“He’s alright.” He’s surprised how hoarse his voice comes out, and clears it, though it does little to dispel the dryness there. “Or, he is now.” He takes a drink of the water Logan sets on the table before him, feeling much better. “He’s asleep, now. Proper sleep.” Everyone relaxes at that, like a breath of fresh air has just swept through the room. 

“What was the cause?” Janus asks, and Virgil winces, rubbing the back of his head. 

“it was me, wasn’t it?” Logan asks. “I… set this into motion.” 

“It’s not your fault, Lo. It was something you said, the… the incorrectly assumed, thing. The phrasing… it was something They said, during the worst of it.” He catches Roman’s shudder, out of the corner of his eye, at the mention of ‘them’, and winces again. 

“I see.” Logan’s voice is distant, cold, and Janus is instantly on his feet, hands on Logan’s shoulders, tilting his chin up so their eyes meet. 

“You couldn’t have known. It isn’t your fault. Any one of us could say something that would trigger the same response. It’s trauma, it’s messy, it’s hard, and they’ve come so far, so fast. It isn’t all on you. It isn’t your fault. None of it is.” Janus says, so fiercly protective, it nearly burned away the guilt weighing him down. 

“Of… of course. That is only logical.” He clears his throat, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Now, since everyone is alright, I believe I should turn in. It will be a long day tomorrow, finalizing take off, and selecting our next course. I shall see you all then.” And with that, he pulls away from Janus, turning and forcing himself to take small, measured steps, as he slips into his room, closing the door and slumping onto his bed.

Why can he not seem to do anything right, when it comes to Remus?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton helps Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty fluff?

Patton sighs, looking at Logan’s door, now firmly closed, the light off. He knows Logan isn’t sleeping. He’ll be laying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, mind running through everything he’s said that he could have said differently, every perceived mistake and error until he’s spiraling downwards without even realizing it. 

“Roman and Remus are settled.” He almost jumps, at Janus’s voice, smiling thinly. 

“Good. They need the rest.” 

“Janus is, um, gonna stay with me, tonight. So. Yeah.” Virgil says, and Janus snorts, bumping his shoulder. 

“Which means you, should go get him.” Janus pointedly looks between Patton, and Logan’s door. Patton’s wings droop just a bit, as he sighs. 

“I was hoping to give him time…” 

“You know he won’t come to you on his own. Not about this. He needs you, Pat. More than either of us do, right now. Go get him.” Virgil murmurs, gently nudging him that direction as he pulls Janus along behind him, hesitating at his door, before Janus tugged him onwards, into his own room. 

Patton raised an eyebrow. He could count on his fingers the number of times he’d been allowed into Janus’s room, and he was the one who had been in it the most amount of times. He was fiercely private and protective over it, which was completely reasonable and understandable. It was his safe space, it was his, and after having nothing that was privately, exclusively his for so long, it made perfect sense that he would guard it so jealously. 

Letting anyone in was a huge step, especially so casually. He feels some warmth surge through him, pride and love for his family, his wonderful, still raw and healing, family, and that warmth gives him the courage to move, to knock on Logan’s door, opening it a crack after getting no response.

“Lo?” He asks, slipping inside after getting no response. “Logan…” He trails off. Logan is right where he thought he’d be, laying on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes distant, though he wasn’t deep in his mind. Just… lost in thoughts. Probably not very good ones. He sits on the edge of the bed, brushing his hand against Logan’s. 

“I am the cause of their distress.” He states simply, voice flat. 

“That’s not true, Lo.” Logan sits up, leaning back against the headboard, eyes dark as he stares at Patton. 

“Is it not? I was the one who decided to keep them separate, and not inform them of the other’s condition. I was the one who chose this planet, because it was supposed to be safe, and instead they got ambushed. I am the one who frightens them the most, because it was my people who did this to them in the first place, it is my fault that this… this atrocious experimentation is allowed to continue at all!” He shouts, angry at his own anger. 

“Now that, Is. Not. True.” Patton’s voice goes hard, and he bites back a gasp, as Patton’s hand is on his face, forcing him to look him square in the eyes. “Do not go there, Logan. You have done everything you ever possibly could have, to change what is happening. The little restrictions that are in place are in place because of you. And when that wasn’t enough, when you knew that wasn’t enough, you left to do something about it.” He hates the wave of helplessness and loathing that washes over him, the memories of his home world, and he shakes his head, closing his eyes against the unwelcome emotions. 

“It wasn’t enough. It isn’t enough, I’ve never been enough, Patton!” He shouts, the silence that follows his admission is enough to send tears cascading down his face, and he hates them almost as much as he hates himself in this moment. 

Then he’s being smothered in warmth and softness, Patton hugging him with all his might, his wings surrounding him in an extra layer of protection, blocking out the outside world. He knows it’s for support, and he loves that Patton knows not to let the world see him cry, knows how much he hates how his own body betrays him, no matter that he knows it’s ok. Some lessons are hard to unlearn. 

His father is one of the three council members. 

His father had little to no regard for the lives of other species, other sentient, feeling, thinking, species. 

His father was known to dabble with experiments.

He’d always been a disappointment, to his father. Too much emotion, too much care for creatures beneath them, too much concern to truly be a scientific genius, to follow in his footsteps. 

He’d brought pages upon pages of research, to the council, about how unethical it all was, about how something had to be done, about how their people were responsible for so much unnecessary suffering, he’d lobbied and railed and fought the only way he could, with empirical data and numbers, and in return, he’d been disowned and disavowed. 

His frustration had reached a fever pitch when he’d had enough. No one was listening, not enough to force change, to force anything to be done, and he’d taken the last of his savings, bought a ship, found the few ‘subjects’ his father had hidden away in his house, apparently thinking Logan too dim to figure that much out for himself, and left.

The two subjects were small, fluffy things. His father had evidently recently aqquired them, as they hadn’t had too much done to them. They were scared, but thankful for the rescue, and he dropped them off at their desired planet. 

Watching them reunite with their families was perhaps the first time Logan had ever felt joy. 

He stayed the night, on that planet, having no idea what he was going to do, where he was going to go, for all his knowledge, nothing had ever prepared him for the act of actually leaving, all the strange and foreign feelings nearly overwhelming, and he didn’t even have names for them, he just knew he wanted them to stop, and they wouldn’t. 

So of course, that’s where Patton found him. Sitting on the edge of the loading ramp, head in his hands, feeling a mess and looking not much better, but trying to figure out and understand Patton was a whole new puzzle, and it gave him something, anything else, to focus on, so when Patton asked to join his crew he said yes without much thought. 

“Logan…” And here he is, still trying to put his pieces back together, still trying to keep him from tearing himself apart, because despite what Patton says it is his fault, if he had been smarter, stronger, better, if he had pushed harder, fought harder, if he had done more, then it wouldn’t be necessary, then the brothers would still be on earth with their family, then people wouldn’t still be getting hurt, then he would have eased a fraction of the guilt on his conscious. 

“I’m never enough.” He gasps out, folding against Patton, shaking at the force of the tears forcing their way out of him. 

“Oh, Logan. Oh, plumana mine. You are enough. You are more than enough. You have always been enough.” Patton murmurs, cradling the back of Logan’s head to his chest, pressing his lips to his hair. 

He’s trying to contain his own emotions, but it’s hard, it hurts, seeing Logan like this, go through this, all over again. Patton isn’t one for hate, but he truly thinks he hates Logan’s father, for making Logan feel so inadequate, so worthless, just because he wasn’t an identical clone of his father. That his empathy and enthusiasm were crushed at every turn, that he was made to be ashamed of himself for not being a complete robot, that at his every accomplishment he was only ever shown disdain and disappointment and he hates that Logan still believes it, at least half the time.

“it isn’t your fault. There’s a whole planet of people, enabling the behavior you were fighting against. There’s a whole planet full of people that could have joined you in speaking out, and didn’t. There’s a whole wider galactic police force that won’t intervene in planetary politics, that could put pressure on the planet till they stopped. You’re one person, Lo. One person, fighting against all that. And you’ve done so much, you’ve put everything you have into fighting this. That is admirable. That is brave, Logan. You’re so brave, plumana.” 

“no… no, I’m not, I-“ 

“Logan. You may not feel brave, but you are. And you’ve helped save so many people. And by going out and researching planets, and reporting that data back to the galactic database, you’re helping to register and protect other sentient life on new planets, and you’ve already forced them to overturn previous wrong classifications on planets like Earth, just because they weren’t as advanced as the rest of us. You aren’t responsible for the actions of anyone but yourself, and your own actions have always been selfless.  
You’re so good, Logan. I wish you would let yourself see just how amazingly good you really are.” 

He holds Logan tight, as his sobs die down into sniffles, his breathing still gasping and shallow, though it was starting to recover some sense of normalcy. 

“I’m sorry.” He rasps, and Patton shakes his head, drawing back just a tad. 

“no, no, no. you have nothing to be sorry for, Lo. Absolutely nothing. I am here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need, I am here for you. I love you, Lo. You’re part of my family, and I will keep reminding you, every time you need it, that you’re not on your own. And you never will be, ever again.” He waits until Logan nods, a small, tired smile gracing his face, before he leans in to hug Patton tight once more. “and you have every right to feel however you are feeling, right now. And every right to let yourself express those feelings. And no one, not one of us, will ever judge you for it. Or think less of you for it. I will physically fight anyone and everyone who does.” Logan lets out a small, choked laugh. 

“You already have quite the long line qued up, if that’s the case.” He answers, voice hoarse, and Patton sighs. 

“I know. And if I ever see a single on of them, I will not hesitate to go at the people who hurt my boy.” He doesn’t laugh at that, because Patton’s voice is fierce and he knows despite how soft Patton is, he means it with all his heart. 

“thank you, Pat. I don’t… I don’t know how I would do this without you.” Patton brushes back his hair, and Logan can feel his gentle smile. 

“you’d still be brilliant, Logan. You’ve always been brilliant, plumana mine.” 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there together, companionably silent, Logan simply taking comfort in Patton’s touch, in being so close to someone, in the warmth that it sparks in his chest, the light that cuts through some of the angry darkness that swarms through him, before he yawns, realizing his eyes are starting to drift shut. 

“Sleepy time, Lo?” Patton asks softly, his own voice warm and slightly slurred from tiredness. He simply makes a soft sound agreement, letting Patton shift them so they’re lying down, Patton curling around him, still wrapping him tight in his wings, Logan’s face pressed close against his chest, his hands clutching at his shirt, still almost desperate for his steady sense of comfort. 

Somehow, with Patton, he always believed that things were going to be ok, even when everything logical screamed that it wasn’t.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say Virgil angst? I think it's time for some Virgil angst.

He can’t sleep.

Not unusual, for him, of course. He hated to admit it, but he was loathe to sleep as much as he should.

He had too many thoughts, too many fears, too many worries of his own, and everyone else’s had been feeding his own, filling him with negativity.

His nightmares felt realer than most. Most were old, and it was agonizing, because he knew they weren’t real, as he was dreaming them, he knew they’d never truly been real, but his mind and, more importantly, his heart, were never convinced they weren’t real. He couldn’t escape them.

They were from his days in the dark of the world of wraiths. The ones where they tore him apart, tortured him until he choked on his blood, reviving him again and again just to choke him, burn him, cut into him, until he managed to shatter their nightmares and escape, exhausted and drawn until he passed out, and they found him all over again.

They still haunted him. Weighed him down, and sometimes they would twist, throwing his crewmates into the mix, as he stayed paralyzed, unable to help as they tore the feathers from Patton's wings, ripped the scales from Janus's face, dissected Logan piece by piece, the only ones he hadn’t seen yet were the brothers, though that was simply because he managed to rip himself free, before it came to them. 

“You aren’t sleeping.” Janus's voice rings out, from where he’s lying in bed beside him. 

“No. I’m not.” He hears Janus sigh, the naga rolling onto his side, and he can feel the weight of his eyes, see the gleam of gold from the corner of his own.

“Was the point of this not to basically cuddle our feelings away?” Janus drawls, and he snorts, rolling over to face him, from where he’d been lying on his back. He smiles weakly, before it falls, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the wash of melancholy fear. 

“Oh, darling…” he winces at the soft brush against his cheek, curling into himself.

“I’m sorry. This… isn’t supposed to be about me, I’m fine, I’ll…” He stutters on his inhale, and hides his head in his arms, unable to stop the hot tears from flooding down his face. “F… fuck…”

“Virgil, come here, dear.” Janus near whispers, and he shakes his head, even as he feels arms snake around him, pulling him close to Janus, who cradles his head, and he wishes he didn’t have to feel guilty about this.

“s…sorry… I…”

“Shhh, Vee.” Janus murmurs, stroking his back in soft circles that have him shuddering, melting into his warmth. “I’m not the only one who’s been repressing, am I?” He manages a wet laugh, at that, pressing closer.

“It’s so much. It’s just… too much and it throws me b…back so far…” he gasps out, ashamed to find himself shaking, he’s so much better than this, so much more in control, and it burns in his chest like a living flame.

He can handle this. He’s able to handle this. They don’t need this, on top of everything else. Janus doesn’t need his break down, on top of everything else. But his attempt to swallow it all down merely ends in him nearly coughing up a lung as he chokes on the sobs tearing at his chest.

“Why didn’t you say it was this bad?”

“You and… and with what happened with the boys…it just… it wasn’t a good time. I can d-deal with it, it’s what I am, w-what I’m m-made for.” 

“Ok, no, there’s a lot wrong, there. I know it’s hypocritical, coming from me, but someone else's hurt doesn’t negate your own or make it any less painful. We are never too busy to be there for you. You don’t have to and shouldn’t deal with it alone, especially since our own emotions are partially the cause.  
And you aren’t made for the sole purpose of being miserable and soaking up our misery. You’re so, so much more than that, Virgil. Even if you don’t feel like it, you are." He sniffles, shaking his head.

“I’m supposed to be helping you.” He whispers, “not worrying you about more stupid stuff.”

“it isn’t stupid. And… and you are, helping. You just being here, talking to me, is helping. Letting me see this? Virgil, I know how hard it is, to be honest like this. It’s terrifying. But you’re letting me in, and that’s worth the entire sky's worth of stars.” Janus pulls back just slightly, and he shivers as Janus gently cups his chin, tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

“you are worth so much more to me than you will ever know.” Janus’s voice is so soft it takes his breath away, then Janus kisses his forehead, and he melts, letting out a long, shuddering breath, that stole the last of his tension, worn thin and frayed. “go to sleep, Virg. I’ve got you.” He couldn’t resist the call of sleep any further, not with Janus cuddling him close, keeping him safe.

“Thanks jan.” he mumbles, then he’s drifting away.  
…  
Janus lets out a fond sigh, looking down at Virgil's now sleeping face, and he strokes back his hair, chuckling as Virgil leans into the touch.

Virgil is curled into a ball, against his chest, his arms around him, holding him close, and while some of the overwhelming burn is present, it isn’t nearly as bad as it was in the kitchen.

Instead it’s… soft. Soft and warm, like a kitten purring against his heart, filling him up with heady, heavy rightness. It’s easier, somehow, to be the one wrapping around Virgil, swallowing him in warmth, than it is to have all the attention on him. He supposes he’ll have to share this revelation with Patton, who will no doubt coo and make a thing out of it.  
He doesn’t have it in him to deny that he’s looking forwards to it.

His attention is stolen by Virgil as his nose scrunches and he lets out a little whine, almost like a kitten's mewl. He shushes him, brushing a hand over his cheek, smiling as his expression evens out once more, his hands fisting at Janus's shirt.

Once again he’s flooded by that warmth, so intense it steals his breath, an overwhelming fondness surging through him.

Virgil and him are so similar, he admits with a low sigh. They’re both so worried about everyone else they shove their own needs to the wayside, so put together that it’s easy to forget where they’ve come from, so good at hiding behind masks that it’s near impossible to see past them, to the cracks beneath.

He knows Virgil didn’t have it good on his planet, knows he’s different from other wraiths, but he's never really been told more than that. Virgil doesn’t like to talk about it, and he won’t pry, not about the past, not when he was withholding so much of his own.

But now… now it might be time, to go out on that limb. For Virgil’s own peace of mind, if nothing else.

“stop thinkin so hard.” Virgil slurs, and he chuckles, looking at Virgil’s dark eyes barely peeked open, already drifting closed. “go ‘t sleep"

“Alright, darling.” He murmurs back, letting Virgil's sleepy breaths lull him asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo started out fluffy, turned into Virgil angst outta nowhere
> 
> Whoops?

He wakes up slowly, mind a bit blurred, slow and heavy. He’s relaxed, though. He feels like he actually slept, well rested and warm inside, something he hasn’t felt in ages. He can feel the weight of Roman beside him, arms flung over him and legs twisted around his. His own arm is flung over his face, and he moves it with a huge yawn, stretching and opening his eyes to the now familiar sight of their room. He can tell it’s late morning, from the amount of light the room is giving off, and he remembers with a slightly sinking stomach that they’ll be taking off, today. 

He sights, turning to look at Roman, who’s still asleep, a slight trickle of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looks so peaceful, like this, so content, and he’s so happy, that Roman has this, he almost bursts into tears. The luxury of being safe still hasn’t worn off, and he doesn’t know how to process it, half the time, but right now, he’s just… happy.

So he grins, gets out of bed quietly and stealthily, then gets a running start and jumps on top of it, sending Roman flying into the air, who wakes with a yelp, flailing on the blankets, before regaining his composure, glaring at Remus. 

“Was that necessary?” He groans, and Remus laughs, which makes Roman smile, because it’s been too long, since Remus laughed like that, carelessly. 

“Nope.” He answers, bracing himself as he sees Roman tense, still going over the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a soft thump as Roman tackles him, and they begin skirmishing, rolling over on top of each other, wiggling out of the other’s pins, until Remus manages to get free and takes off down the hall with a cry of victory, Roman hot on his heels.

“Get back here!” Roman shouts, breathless, half from running, half from trying to contain his gasping laughter, as Remus darts behind the kitchen island, Roman squaring up against him on the opposite side. 

“You’re trapped. Surrender, bed jumping fiend!” Roman declares, and Remus laughs, eyes bright. 

“Not on your life, RoBro!” He crows back, trying to juke Roman by ducking left and right, Roman countering every movement, until he grins wildly, and simply launches himself over the counter, tackling Remus hard to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

“Oh, god, Ree, are you ok?!” Roman asks frantically, as he struggles to heave in a breath, finally succeeding, bursting into laughter as soon as he does, Roman slumping against him, smacking him lightly. “You asshole! I thought I’d hurt you!” but Roman’s laughing too, their giggling setting each other over off, until they’re both puddles on the floor, struggling to pull themselves together.

“Fine… just knocked the air outta me! Was not expecting that!” 

“Yeah, well, decided to use a you tactic.” He snorts, wiping at his face, so unused to happy tears falling down his face, it was so strange. 

“I heard a commotion.” Logan darts into the room, eyes wide and slightly frantic, taking in the two of them on the floor. 

“We’re fine. Sorry, for waking you, we were just playing.” Roman answers, sheepishly, and Logan relaxes, a flicker of a smile passing over Logan’s face. 

“Ah, well, everything is alright, then. I’m… glad you seem to be recovered.” He flushes slightly, at that, rubbing his neck. 

“Yeah, I’m, uh, sorry. About freaking out on you. Again.” Logan softens further, shoulders relaxing just a tad. 

“It’s perfectly alright, Remus. I am simply sorry that I continue to cause you undue distress.” 

“Wait, what? No, Logan, that wasn’t… it wasn’t your fault. Anyone could have said that, and it would have… set me off, I guess. Really, anything could. I don’t know… what will or won’t. It’s nothing to do with you.” Logan looks away, discontent flashing in his eyes. 

“Falsehood. It is consistently me that causes you to become upset or experience flashbacks. It is my kind that stole you from your home and did unspeakable, terrible things to you, hurt you-“ 

“Logan. It isn’t your fault. You can’t control what anyone else does. You aren’t responsible for them. You’re only responsible for you. If we were held accountable for everything any huma had ever done, we would have deserved everything that was done to us. But we didn’t. And you aren’t.” Roman answers, getting to his feet. 

“Remus-“ 

“I don’t blame you either, Lo. I know what I said the first time, but I didn’t mean it. I already took it back. I don’t blame you. You’ve... helped. More than anything, you’ve helped.” Logan’s eyes widened, just a bit, and he swallowed hard, taking a small step back. 

“I… thank you. Both.” He says softly, clearing his throat. “Now then, I have preparations to make for takeoff. I will…” He pauses at the creak of a door, brightening slightly “leave you with Patton! Who no doubt will be making breakfast.” Logan walks as fast as possible from the room while maintaining his composure, as Patton walks into it, looking after him with a puzzled gaze, before landing on the boys, smiling slightly. 

“Is there a reason Logan practically just sprinted from the room?” Patton asks. 

“I think we went a little mushy on him. He was saying stupid shit, so we talked some sense into him.” Remus answers, flopping onto the couch face first, letting out a puff of breath as Roman follows suit, directly on top of him. 

“Caught you. I win.” He lets out a small chuckle, making no move to dislodge Roman, his weight pressing him down is actually quite soothing, and he’s warm, as well. 

“This time. Next time I won’t go soft on you.” 

Patton just smiles as he rolls his eyes, feathers fluffing happily. This is the first time he’s truly seen the two of them relaxed and fully at ease, and it warms him, seeing them playing, like this, seeing them snark and laugh and not second guess themselves for it. They’re already so much more confident, and despite any steps backwards, it’s clear they’re making wonderful progress. It seems that the flashback last night hasn’t affected that progress at all, and he's never been gladder.

He finds himself humming as he starts making breakfast, settling on something sugary and sweet, to match the warmth in his chest.  
…  
He’s warm. 

Arms are wrapped around him, holding him close and gentle, and he can hear soft humming. He shivers, at a brush of hands against his forehead, his cheek, melting into the soft touches, taking the last of the edges off his shadowy dreams.

It’s so… odd, waking up softly and slowly. He’s used to jolting awake, heart pounding and eyes wild, dissipating at the seams, dissolving into fog, because if he isn’t solid, they can’t keep him pinned down, he can escape, before he remembers and sags back. The panic of waking usually chases off any good the sleep had done.

But this is something else entirely. This feels so unbearably good, he doesn’t want to move a muscle. He feels someone gently scratching at the underside of his chin, and he practically vibrates with pleasure, a low hum escaping his lips.

“liked that one, did you? Who knew, under all that prickly exterior you’re such a softie.” Janus, that’s right, but even though his words are teasing, his tone is soft and meaningful, and he remembers now, last night, and sinks deeper, not wanting to face his outburst in the light of morning.

“You’re one to talk.” He grumbles back, shuddering at a hand carding through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“Glass houses, Virgil. I’m not the only one touch starved, am I?” He opens his eyes, then, glaring up at Janus, who continues. “not as badly as I am, but you still are, Virg. You accept casual touches with a wince, you dodge hugs from Patton, it’s only when he's calming you, that you let him hold you. Otherwise you’re tense and tied up in knots.” He looks away, pulling out of Janus's hold, knees to his chest.

“look, I was just tired and overwhelmed last night, ok? Can we just… just forget about it?” his voice comes out shakier than he means it to, and he nearly jumps as Janus brushes a hand down his back, sending tingles racing through him. 

“We both know that's not true, Virg. You're hurting.”

“I’m fine. I’m… I’m fine. It’s just, gods, would you stop doing that?!” he snaps, drawing away from another of Janus's touches, flinching back, because it had been coming towards his head, his temple, and that was a no, no no no.

“talk to me, Virg. What is it you’re so afraid of?” his breath catches and he curls tighter, wisps of darkness dancing around him.

“I don’t like touch. I don’t… I can’t think straight, when you’re doing… that, and if I can’t think, can’t focus, then I won’t be able to see any threat coming I can’t protect myself if I can’t focus, if I can’t tell what’s real, I won’t be able to break free, I won’t… it wasn’t… it was always worse, when they were gentle first. They could drag me so much deeper, it was so much harder to tell what was real, I could never tell what was real.  
Touch… hurts. That’s what it does, it hurts, if they caught me, when they catch me…” he chokes out, squeezing his eyes closed trying to keep breathing, trying to remember where he is, he’s safe, he’s safe!

“Oh. Oh, Virg, I’m sorry, I should have guessed, I’m sorry.”

Focus. Focus, come on, he’s safe, he’s on the mindscape, Janus is right next to him, he’s saying something, but he can’t hear him over his own gasping breaths, and he’s shaking, he’s shaking so hard, because he can feel it, he can feel their icy grip on his wrists, the nightmares shoved into his mind, tearing him apart, it hurts, it hurts exquisitely, and distantly he could hear himself screaming, a high, wild, keening scream, that no doubt had them howling with glee, feral with his pain, lapping up his misery. 

His body is tense, waiting for the blows, for the pain, already ghosts of phantom electricity spark across his skin, burning him like miniscule cinders and flames, licking up his arms and across his body, and it hurts, please, it hurts, please!

“Virgil. Virgil, can you hear me?” A voice, and he cringes, he coils smaller, his hands are clawing at his hair, digging into his scalp, arms covering his face, trying to protect the vulnerable parts of him, trying to make himself as small a target as possible, though it won’t help, he can’t escape, they’re everywhere, no matter how little he is, they find him, they’ll find him, he’s cornered, he can’t breathe, they’re choking him, he can’t breathe!

“Virgil!” It’s too far away, it’s too far, it’s dark, he’s not safe, he’s not, then there’s a touch, a touch against his arm, and he hisses, recoiling, but there’s nowhere to go, there’s nowhere to go, and he’s hurt, it hurts, please, leave him alone, please! 

Warmth. Arms? Hands, hands on him, and he hisses, struggles weakly, tries to get away, there’s no escape, there’s no out, he knows there isn’t any out, and the hands hold firm, though they don’t press, they don’t squeeze too tight, the nails don’t dig into his skin, they don’t hurt, but he still whimpers pathetically, going limp, because it’s always worse, if he struggles, so instead he just… just lets go. Just lets it happen, just sags and goes ragdoll and lets them do whatever they will, it’s not like he can stop them, not like he has any power over his own being, over his own will. 

He feels himself being moved, as he continues to stay limp, surprised the care they’re taking, to support his head, but he’s so far removed from himself, from his body, he doesn’t have it in him to care. They shift him, and he feels something steadily rising and falling underneath him, can distantly hear something thump, thump, thumping, against his head. The hand cradling his head is gently rubbing circles against the base of his neck, and it makes him shiver, his stomach churn, the power they have over him right now, but it feels so damn nice, at the same time, and he doesn’t understand, why they’re being so soft with him, perhaps waiting, waiting for his guard to drop, waiting for him to relax, so it would hurt all the more, and he’s quivering, with anticipation, wishing, wishing it would just happen already, wishing it could just be over, wishing they would just hurt him already! 

“Shhh, darling, shhh, I’m not going to hurt you, nothing is going to hurt you, Virgil. Just breathe, alright? Just try and breathe.” The voice is closer. Still distant, but closer, and he doesn’t drop his guard completely, but he shudders, as a hand gently pries his own away from his head, keeping gentle hold of it, rubbing lightly over his knuckles. He lets out a desperate gasp as he feels them kiss his knuckles lightly, instinctually curling towards the warmth, towards the comfort, though it’s a trick, it must be a trick. 

“that’s good, Virg, that’s so good, shadow. Just keep breathing for me, nice and steady. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” The voice murmurs, right in his ear, the hand holding his moving, drifting to around his waist, pressing him closer. He whines as he feels another kiss, this one to his forehead, but they don’t pull away, keeping their head pressed atop his, rocking him gently. 

“Nice and easy, Virg. It’s ok, darling, it’s ok.” He shivers again, weaker this time, the bubbling panic in his chest starting to ease, as his body automatically began copying the breathing of the person, in turn slowing his heart rate, clearing his head, though it feels like wading through molasses. He’s so heavy, everything feels so heavy, and he hates this fuzziness that fills him with confusion. 

“All the birds  
Come home to roost  
Early in the evening  
Little doves  
And little ones,  
Tucked in with softened mother’s down  
All the snakes  
Lay down to rest  
Underneath their burrows  
Curling up in piles of scales  
Warmed by one another  
All the stars  
Come out to shine  
As the sun says good night  
Sparkling distantly   
Guarding over the sleeping.” 

A lullaby. He’s heard the tune before, though not the words, the voice is crooning and smooth, steady as the hand stroking his back, the other still rubbing his knuckles, their breath rising and falling underneath him, centering him, and he lets out a ragged breath, daring to peek open his eyes. 

Janus. Janus is humming the tune, now, eyes soft and warm, though he stops, as he realizes his eyes are open, though his hand keeps making the soothing motion against his back, and he lets out another deep breath, less shaky than the one before, surprising Janus as he flings his arms around his neck, burying his head against Janus’s shoulder, Janus’s arms moving to hug him tighter, one cradling the back of his head once more, the other pressing against the middle of his back. 

“I’m sorry, Vee. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed, I’m so sorry.” He’s crying, but it feels good, letting it out, letting out the tears instead of swallowing them down, and he finds he doesn’t mind crying, not in front of Janus, for some reason. He can’t summon more words, so he just squeezes Janus a little tighter, swallowing hard. “Are you fully back, Virgil?” 

“Don’t know. I… d-don’t know…” 

“That’s ok, shadow. It’s ok. Just keep breathing, Virg, just keep breathing for me. You’re safe now, you’re safe.” 

“I know… I k-know, Jan.” His eyes drift closed, he’s so drained, he feels so empty, yet strangely full, all at the same time, and he’s still so, so heavy. He hears a soft knock, though he’s already drifting enough it doesn’t startle him, his awareness slipping away. 

It’s Patton, he thinks, worried, no doubt, about the emotions he’d been expending, the small wisps of fog drifting under the door. Janus says something, Patton replies, soft and worried, and he wants to comfort him, he does, but he can’t find it in him to summon more words. 

“Oh, kiddo. You’ve worn yourself out, haven’t you?” He whines, at another soft touch of his forehead, the barest sensation of feathers brushes his face. “Don’t you worry bout a thing, plumana, nothing is getting past me, absolutely nothing.” He shivers at another soft touch, a wash of cool calmness slipping through him, and he relaxes further back against Janus, a soft sigh slipping out of his lips. 

He’s not falling asleep, not exactly. It’s not his body that’s tired, just his mind, so he stays aware, of Janus rubbing up and down his arms, murmuring to Patton, murmuring softly to him, though he can’t quite comprehend the words. He’s aware of where he is, who he’s with, but any thoughts are hazy and far away. He’s drifting in and out, swimming to the barest surface of awareness, catching flickers of moments and words, before slipping back under into wandering nothing. But the dark doesn’t scare him, not now. Not when he can feel Janus, still holding him, and he knows that he’s safe, safe, safe, as long as Janus is here.


End file.
